


Once Upon Another Time

by agapecentauri



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 142,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agapecentauri/pseuds/agapecentauri
Summary: Once upon another time when two souls would be placed on two very separate paths, unknowingly heading in the same direction. Christine and Erik find their lives linked together without ever meeting. One night of tragedy leads to two very separate worlds to collide into one.[Originally posted on FFN under agapecentauri]
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Meg Giry
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. The Funeral

**Chapter 1: The Funeral**

The last note ascended to the heavens of the sanctuary as her tears fell like crystal waterfalls upon her cheeks. Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise” had been her father’s favorite - an impassioned arrangement that could either make the angels weep or serenade the demons to slumber. Christine’s hands trembled, it was her last tribute to her father. Not a sound could be heard as Christine slumped back onto the church pew, immediately crumbled into the arms of Nadir Khan and wept. Nadir, her dear father’s friend and family lawyer, would be the last physical connection she would have, to remind her of the stories, the memories, and the love Gustav would leave behind.

As Widor’s Toccata rattled the stained-glass windows of the church, the choir voices soared, and the string ensemble’s notes pulled in reverence, Christine picked up Gustav’s ashes and walked with Nadir down the aisle. In her now numbed and unfeeling haze, friends and Gustav’s colleagues extended warm wishes and continued prayers to Christine and Nadir; and before realizing it, the reception was over. Nadir ushered Christine into the car for the drive back to the house in the woods.

“Nadir?” his name but a faint whisper from her throat.

“Yes dear?”

“H-how does… how can I do this? Where do I go from here?”

“One day at a time, kiddo. And if that’s too much, then one hour at a time. And if even an hour is too much, then just one aching minute at a time…” Nadir’s voice cracked and finally he let his tears fall. His heart broke for the adoringly best friend he had ever known and for the fragile 19 year old next to him. He watched as her thumbs gently glided over the urn and saw the defeat etched on her face. _How do I survive this?_ _I’m not Gustav, I’m not her father… I can’t carry a tune to save my life. How do I bring her back? I’m losing her already, this young woman who has always been like my own daughter… How do I bring her back? Can I bring her back?_

The cancer stormed in like a ravaging tornado, and as quickly as it came, it just as quickly claimed Gustav’s life and destroyed everything. And like the recovery efforts after such a devastating storm, Christine felt her life in ruins. _How do I survive this? How do I fill this void? How can I ever love music again without him?_

* * *

Since childhood and the death of Marie Clare Daae, the tricky trio, as they would label themselves, were thick as thieves. Gustav and Nadir and Christine were always together. Gustav, a Vietnam War veteran, was a retired music teacher and opened a small private teaching conservatory out of the house on a part-time basis, teaching all ages the violin, the piano, and every woodwind possible. Nadir, who served with Gustav in Vietnam, was an attorney in Philadelphia, owning a small law office specializing in military veterans disability claims. Upon Marie Clare’s untimely death when Christine was just two years old, Gustav tried his best but the darkness of depression cast a foreboding shadow upon the Daae household. That’s when Khan stepped in to rescue Gustav from turning inward, keeping his focus on raising Christine. Khan was by their side ever since, and Christine saw him as a confidante and a friend; but most importantly, he was family. Music was always the common bond between Christine and her father. As long as she could remember, Gustav opened her eyes and ears to the storytelling music could unfold in her imagination. At age four, Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise” was the first real masterpiece Gustav exposed to Christine. 

“Close your eyes and listen. Feel the notes in your bones and veins. What do you see? What do you _feel_?” Gustave prompted her.

“I see an angel and he’s sad.”

 _Of course… it’s ALWAYS an angel_. Gustav quietly chuckled. “Why is the angel sad, Chrissie?”

“Because he doesn’t have another angel yet to sing with him. He wants to be in love, daddy! Duh!!” She threw her little arms up, flailing her hands in the air, and jumped off the deck into the backyard. Both Gustav and Nadir sat at the patio table and laughed until their sides hurt.

“She is 1000% your kid, Gus! What a pistol!” Nadir coughed through his laughter.

“But like her mother, she’s a perpetual hopeless romantic…” He grew quiet, closing his eyes, remembering the first time he saw Marie Clare. “Hopefully she won’t fall for some stubborn old fart like her mother did.”

“Stubborn, not always. Old fart? All the damn time!” They erupted into boisterous laughter.

That laughter was a constant companion in the small house tucked in the woods. That laughter made the house a home. 

* * *

But tonight, there was no boisterous laughter. Tonight, only silence. 

As Nadir parked the car in the driveway, the motion lights flickered on and Christine slowly emerged from the car. It was a beautiful night, with stars littering the sky. Christine looked up at the twinkling stars and felt like they were twinkling in a mocking joviality, “A new angel has come to join us!” _Stop it, Chrissie. Don’t go that dark; it’s no one's fault. Not yours. Not dad’s. Not Nadir’s. Not God’s._

“Hey kiddo, can I make you some tea? Come on, let’s go inside. I’m not going back to the city tonight so I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

“Ok yeah, tea would be good I guess. Thanks for offering to stay Uncle Nadir. I don't think I could be here alone tonight…” She sounded so formal, on autopilot. She still couldn’t believe he was gone.

Despite the bitter cold, Nadir and Christine sat at the table on the back deck, wrapped in warm blankets, and cold hands enveloping their hot mugs of earl grey tea infused with lavender. Again, Christine’s eyes blinked upwards, burning from the cold and from her grief.

“What happens next, Nadir?” Her voice was barely above a whisper as a cold breeze blew through her long, brown hair. Pulling the blanket around her tighter, Christine folded her legs underneath her for warmth.

“Well, there’s a lot we need to do, sweetie, but I’ll take care of most of it. We do need to go through the rest of your dad’s will and settle any outstanding financial matters for his estate. It’s a blessing Gus was so smart with his money - the mortgage is paid off and I think there’s only his car payment left. But that’s a small thing to take care of. Tomorrow we’ll tackle the life insurance policies, retirement funds, and settle the conservatory business stuff. Then at some point, maybe start cleaning out…” But he stopped his thought, staring at Christine, who’s eyes were filling with tears and her bottom lip and chin quivered. “Oh Chrissie, my dear girl,” his own voice breaking and his tears fell. They couldn’t fight it any longer and they wept.

* * *

The next two weeks went by in a blurry haze as Christine fell into a distant existence. Nadir would catch her staring off in a blank expression, lifeless eyes lost deep in thought, lacking emotion. She looked tired, exhausted, and defeated.

“Christine, have you thought about when you’ll return to school to finish the semester?” Nadir proceeded cautiously, hoping to re-engage.

Her eyes flitted up briefly to meet Nadir’s face but quickly sank down to her mug of hot tea. “I’m not going back. I can’t go back.”

“Of course you can, I think it’d be good for you to return to some normalcy and…”

“I said I wasn’t going back, and I’m not changing my mind. The Dean already has the email sitting in her inbox. I’m never going back there, Nadir. Do you have any idea what that shithole college was like?” Christine’s temper was beginning to boil. Anxiety started pricking her skin as an uncomfortable, dull pain arched through her spine. “Those girls on my floor were appallingly vicious. Why would I EVER go back to that?”

“Ok, ok… I’m sorry, sweetie. I know it was a tough semester to adjust to a new place; I just thought you’d want to maybe give it another chance.” A long uncomfortable pause sat between them. “ What do you want to do?” Nadir felt helpless, like he was making things so much worse. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Admittedly, he felt just as lost as Christine.

“Just let me work in your office for a while; you don’t even have to pay me. All I know is that I can’t go back there and I can’t stay in this house alone.” Christine fell quiet once again, her bout of anxiety slowly dissipating, as the look in her eyes drifted back into an empty abyss.

* * *

Oh how the teasing was relentless during her first semester at Haven Lake University. She honestly didn’t want to go there, but the few high school friends she did have were going to another university just an hour away, so she felt it was a good compromise to be far enough away from home to grow some independence but to have somewhat of a safety net close by. But as the weeks drifted on, her friendships with her high school friends quickly and quietly dissipated. And there was absolutely nothing to do on campus. 

Haven Lake was tucked into the old mining mountains in north central Pennsylvania, where things fell into a dreary, dark, depressing environment as soon as the last leaves fell from the trees, bowing to the oppression of cold winter. Christine attempted to become social and interact with the girls who lived on her dorm floor, but they were always partying, drinking, and acting impulsively immature. Even her roommate, Melissa, who was on the university soccer team, usually came back to the room every other night stumbling drunk. By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, Christine welcomed going home. But it was the day after Thanksgiving that brought the announcement from Gustav: the cancer had returned.

“Dad, you beat it before two years ago, you can beat it again, right? What did the doctors say? When does treatment start?” Christine was reliving the panic all over again from her junior year of high school when Gustav was first diagnosed with a brain tumor. The initial bout wasn’t aggressive and no surgery was required; but the radiation and chemotherapy left Gustav very weak, but he was able to beat it the first time. However, there was something different about it this time.

“Chrissie, sweetie, it’s not a tumor this time. The doctors say it’s spread to my pancreas and it’s…” Gustav looked at Nadir, who gave him a no-bullshit nod. “It’s stage four, and um, the doctors say there’s no chance with this one, so I… we, the doctors and me, won’t be seeking…”

“Treatment. You decided to not fight and give up just like that? Without even talking to me about it? What the hell, Dad?!” she interrupted, pursing her lips tight while biting the inside of her cheek, realizing that being combative never got anywhere with her dad - it’d just make him dig in harder. “I love you, Dad, and I love you too much to let you give up.” Gustav took her hands in his and sighed. She knew down in her soul that he wasn’t wanting to fight anymore.

“I love you too and I love YOU too much to not spend my last months, weeks, days, or hours being holed up in a hospital and NOT spend every last breath of time with you. You’re stronger than you know, and I love you MORE than you will ever know.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead and Nadir rubbed her shoulders. These two men were her entire world, she’d be completely lost without them. “Just promise me you’ll give college another chance. You have so many talents and are so smart. If anything do it for these two old geezers, huh?” Christine gave a strained grin and gave a brief nod. _These two are insufferable._

Upon returning to Haven Lake after the Thanksgiving holiday, Christine found her dorm room had been completely cleared out of Melissa’s items. Rumor had it that Melissa, who was on a partial soccer scholarship, was caught by county police for driving under the influence her first night back on campus after the holiday break and lost her scholarship. Although Christine and Melissa were never close, the emptiness and loneliness further isolated Christine for her peers. And the further isolated she felt, she quicker she began collapsing in on herself. A week before the end of the semester break was to begin when the phone call came from Nadir.

“Hey kiddo…” Nadir’s voice was quiet, but the background noise gave away his location: the hospital. “So I had to bring your dad to the emergency room last night and it looks like he has pneumonia. It’s not severe but the doctors are keeping him for the next few days.”

“I have my last final tomorrow; come pick me up tomorrow night. I’ll be ready.” With that, Christine quickly began packing up her dorm room. Her belongings were sparse - why make some place comfortable when all it brought was misery, depression, and sadness. _This was never my home - good riddance to this ridiculous place_. Christine put on her favorite playlist, which immediately had “Vocalise” as the first track, and she began to hum out the melody and felt oddly at peace.

* * *

“Christine… Chrissie, hey…” Nadir’s voice breaking through her foggy memories. “Of course I’ll let you work in the office. I need some admin help anyway and you can help me find a paralegal or a clerk to help. I have a feeling things are about to get really busy.” Nadir sat up from the table and began washing his mug. “I gotta head back to the city and catch up on things in the office. How about you swing by on Monday morning whenever you feel like coming. If things start feeling too oppressive here, call me and stay at the apartment, ok? I love you kiddo.”

“Ok, thanks. I love you too, Uncle Nadir… and I’m sorry.” Using the table for support, Christine pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around him. “See you Monday morning.”

Nadir hugged Christine and placed a kiss on her forehead and walked out to his car. The faint jingling of his keys fell quiet, and for the first time in three weeks, Christine was left alone in an empty house. She felt tired, cold, almost empty, and dearly missed hearing her dad’s humming. 

_Now what?_


	2. Offer and Acceptance

**Chapter 2: Offer & Acceptance**

“Erik, this is so exciting!! I’m so proud of you!” Meg was absolutely ecstatic and danced around Erik, showering him with hugs.

“Dude! This is FANTASTIC! Way to go!” And with a congratulatory punch to the arm, Raoul gave Erik a quick hug.

As Meg came back from the kitchen with three glasses and a bottle of wine, she poured them each a drink. “To Erik! To our successes! To growing up (ok maybe not yet), but WHATEVER! To us, may we forever have each other always, be the mismatched family of oddest oddballs, the quirkiest bunch you’ll ever see… to the tricky trio!” And down went the wine and up went Erik’s spirits.

“Thank you both, sincerely. The love and respect you’ve bestowed upon your incredibly awkward friend has made me eternally grateful to you both.” Such a refined creature, he was. “This is a really exciting opportunity for sure. Dr. Marrenesco really pulled strings with the Dean to make this happen - I’ll be forever indebted to him.” While a few months away from completing a dual graduate program in music and violin from Western Cypress University, Erik had immediately approached his mentor, Dr. Nikolai Marrenesco with a proposition: a customized Doctorate program focused on violin performance and composition with the promise of leveraging his talent, and the music department’s contacts, to work directly with the renowned New York City Chamber Orchestra as type of mentorship program and compose specifically for the orchestra an original full symphony. It wasn’t easy convincing either Dr. Marrenesco or the Dean of Music, but somehow Erik’s unrelenting passion won the battle and the university agreed to this very rare opportunity for a customized doctoral program. 

“Well, now that you’re about to complete your Master’s program and start the Ph.D. work in August, all we need is to find you a girlfriend, Destler,” Raoul sniffed, only half-jokingly. “Maybe you can snag up a young undergrad music major and woo her with your tunes and whatnot.”

“Raoul, knock it off. Erik will find someone when the stars align. Besides, you know he’ll need to hear music from a girl’s soul before ever considering her for more.” Meg winked at Erik with a sisterly love and Erik chuckled.

_ Well wouldn’t that be something. Me, dating a girl, let alone MEETING a girl. With this oh-so-handsome face. Such a loathsome, grotesque gargoyle. For now, and perhaps forever, music will be more than enough _ .

Erik Destler - the incredibly gifted musician with an incomparable knowledge and skill not commonly seen in modern youth. Despite his flaws and his dysfunctional childhood, Erik found solace and comfort in the world of music. Every instrument he touched turned to performance gold, including his voice. Every recital, every concert, and every private performance he gave left his audiences craving and yearning for more, like an addiction of the soul. It was during his early graduate years at the university where Erik met the bubbly couple that was Meg Giry and Raoul de Chagny. They were the polar opposite of him - positive, charming, gorgeous, and outgoing. But they accepted him from the moment they met.

* * *

Erik, Meg, and Raoul - the most mismatched of friendships one would ever encounter, but these three were inseparable. At first, Meg and Raoul thought driving over an hour to some amateur astronomical society was insane, but the advertisement that was posted around campus seemed really intriguing. 

“Star party? There better be movie stars there if that’s the case,” Raoul joked to Meg. She wasn’t entertained. “You are such a boob, Raoul, but I love you anyway. Come on, let’s just go. Let’s make it an outdoor date night. It’ll be fun. Pleeeaassse?” Well how could he NOT say yes to that beautiful smile. “Fine, but only because I love you and your absurd interest in wracking your neck up to the sky,” he responded with a kiss.

The drive up to the Carbon Valley Amateur Astronomical Society (CVAAS) was surprisingly easy. Upon their arrival, they saw an army of telescopes and stargazers littered throughout the open grass on top of the mountain. “Holy crap, this is something! Look at all this stuff!” Raoul was amused and instantly hooked. As they walked around, introducing themselves, and looking through all the telescopes, they inquired about Erik Destler, who had advertised the event around campus. “Oh yeah, hold on, let’s go find him. Knowing him he’s either in the library or up in the observatory with Big Mama,” responded one of the stargazers.

“Big Mama?” Meg was confused and peered apprehensively at Raoul.

“Oh yeah, Big Mama, our pride and joy here at CVAAS. She’s the large telescope we purchased over 10 years ago through fundraisers, donations, and a co-op we have with a few of the local colleges and universities around here. They lease out telescope time for their classes, so we’re able to afford the maintenance on it. Let’s find Erik so you guys can meet him.” They navigated their way around the dark outdoors towards the building which housed an indoor planetarium with a projector and some seating, a small kitchen area, two restrooms, and an adequately stocked library. “Um, so, just a thing about Erik before we go in. He wears a mask on the right side of his face. I’ve known him long enough to know that it does cover up some kind of disfiguration on his face, but we’ve never really talked about it. So just, ignore it. He finds solace here because, well, stargazing and astronomy require darkness and he’s comfortable at night. We’re a little quirky and nerdy here at CVAAS so perhaps he’s found somewhere he feels he can fit in better. Aside from that, he’s a really nice, genuine guy, ok?” And as usual, there sat Erik at a long table, hunched over a celestial mapping atlas with classical music playing in the background.

“Hey, Destler, there’s some folks here who wanted to come meet you. Something about the ads you put up on campus somewhere?” Eric glanced up nervously with an apprehensive gaze. 

“Hey man, I’m Raoul and this is my girlfriend, Meg. We drove up from Western Cypress after we saw your ads up on campus. Seriously, best decision we’ve ever made - this place is incredible! It’s really great to meet you!” Raoul extended a friendly hand to Erik with a smile. Erik looked at Meg, who was smiling brightly.

“Uh, yes, well, thank you for coming. It’s very nice to meet you both. I honestly haven’t had anyone from the student body make the journey up here, so you’ll please forgive me if I’m rather surprised by your attendance.” Erik realized he was holding his breath as he nervously shook Raoul’s hand and offered a nod to Meg.

“Erik, this place is really something. Can you give us a tour? How long have you been coming here? Are you a member?” Meg bombarded Erik with questions as her childlike curiosity took over. She could hardly contain her excitement, and both Raoul and Erik let out a laugh. Raoul rolled his eyes at Erik, who barely stifled another laugh.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I’m glad to share this experience. Welcome to CVAAS! Erik Destler, member for three years, resident librarian and musical accompanist to the beautiful sights in our galaxy!” Erik was thrilled - finally, more people to bring into his orbit who didn’t judge him based on his awkward, and uncomfortable, appearance. There was something about these two that really made him feel warm and content and secure. And for the first time ever, Erik felt his body relax.  _ That sound, it’s me… it’s MY laughter. _

* * *

“Will you call your mom and tell her the news? I’m sure she’d want to hear from you,” Meg asked rather apprehensively, steeling herself for the immediate rapid fire retort.

“That woman is not worthy of such good news and doesn’t deserve to be part of this. I’ve gotten this far without her, and I can… WILL, continue forward without her as well,” Erik burned. “The only ones deserving to celebrate are already here. I have my family in you, so drop it.” Raoul and Meg knew this would be the response.

“Hey, it was an innocent question, Erik. Last time there was mention of her, she completed treatment and has been sober for quite a few months now,” Raoul quickly jumped in to Meg’s defense. This was one of those moments that Raoul wouldn’t let Erik get away with antics.

“It doesn’t matter! So what she completed treatment, AGAIN. So what she’s been sober for a few months, AGAIN. She’ll just fall back into her typical pattern, drink herself into a fine frenzy, and blame me AGAIN for all her problems, for why my father left. I cannot go through that AGAIN with her. It’s done; I AM DONE!! And therefore I say drop it… AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN, over and over, yet you consistently fail to respect that request!!” Erik raged and stormed towards the door, leaving again for Meg and Raoul to clean up the pieces. He grabbed his violin and messenger bag while heading for the door. “I expected more from you both, especially being the only people that have EVER accepted me and my past. But you continually bring up the pains of my past and it must cease immediately. I’ve never asked anything more from either of you, not once. I want, and need, to make something most abundantly clear: drop this, NOW. If not, you’ve made your choice and we end this friendship now. You KNOW I am the reason she is the way she is; I’m the reason she lost herself, her humanity, and whatever maternal responsibilities that she was supposed to take ownership of. I’ve RUINED her by being born!” With a howl of absolute grief and despair and rage, Erik slammed the door and stormed off towards campus to seek out refuge through music, as his mind churned through an angry composition he needed to release through the pounding of piano keys.

It was unseasonably cool on this April afternoon as Erik plowed his way down the cobblestone sidewalk towards the music building. He seethed and sweated anger through his pores, memories of his abusive childhood and adolescence invading the present, the smell of cheap alcohol was wafting in uncomfortable nostalgia that he had always worked hard to push away into the depths of his soul. But pushing those things so far and so deep can only stay dormant for so long. The inevitable eruption of rage, anger and despair were starting to boil. The squelch of the eruption, the only way to escape was through music. There was a part of Erik that refused to fully let go of his pains and grievances with his past - it meant more fuel for his musical creativity. Surely nothing else could, or would, awaken in him anything but pain and anger.

* * *

“You’re disgusting, repulsive! Get the hell away from me! Go to your room!” Mother screamed in a drunken rage, again, for the umpteenth time that week.

Since birth, Erik was deformed. A genetic abnormality? Possibly. A defect from Mother’s alcoholism? A stronger possibility. But whatever the reason, Erik was raised to believe he was responsible for Mother’s behavior, her drinking, and the reason why Father left. Erik called them Mother and Father, didn’t want to use their proper names for they were undeserving, unworthy to be known to him. Their titles of Mother and Father were only formal, unfeeling labels. 

By the time Erik turned 18, he fully emancipated himself and became an independent. After graduating from high school, Erik was accepted to Western Cypress University on a full music scholarship. During his auditions, Erik attracted the ears and attention of Dr. Nikolai Marrenesco, tenured professor of violin, piano, and composition. Immediately recognizing the gift and talent, Dr. Marrenesco immediately took Erik under his tutelage and began grooming him for greatness. During his initial auditions for the music program, Erik performed an original composition, with heavy influences and a unique marriage of Chopin, Liszt and Rachmaninoff. His creativity birthed sweeping crescendos, authoritative and heavily robust chords, and sometimes uncomfortably dark melodies that left painfully prickling goosebumps. There was one avenue Dr. Marrenesco was unable to pull from Erik - romance and love and tenderness. Every piece Erik chose was dark, angry, and told a gruesome story of pain, dejection, and torture. 

Throughout the years of undergraduate and now closing in on his last month of his graduate program, Erik’s composing and pieces were dark, foreboding, and left not just his professors speechless but also his audiences and peers. The music Erik composed filled the souls of those who heard with an uncomfortable craving to embrace darkness, to welcome despair, to open their minds to the power of pain and heartache. Upon completion of various recitals, performances, and even auditions, audiences and evaluators alike left venues in a foggy haze, futality attempting to bring their darkened souls back to earth.

* * *

_ Unbelievable! After all I have confided to them, they still incessantly nag with vexing determination to FIX everything. I cannot be FIXED! _ Erik’s thoughts raced through his mind as he stormed down the hallway of the older section of the music building to his preferred private spot, a secluded and rundown practice room. The walls deteriorated significantly over the past few years especially, the overhead lights were always burned out or broken, and the upright piano was in earnest need of significant repair… and love.  _ Much like myself, I suppose. _ He slammed the practice room door, rattling the already loosened glass window pane in the door. 

_ What to play, what to play… Ahh, movement number 3 from Moonlight Sonata. Done. _ And with that, Erik belted out with a ferocity for seven whole minutes and quickly moved to Rachmaninoff’s “Revolutionary Etude.” Opening his eyes out of his reverie, he looked up to see both Meg and Raoul skulking outside the practice room. Bowing his head with a heavy sigh, he motioned for them to enter. “My friends, I beg for your forgiveness. You meant no ill will and your intentions were from love. I should know better by now, after all these years; forgive me.”

The two friends sat on the floor as Erik turned to them on the piano bench. “Erik, we love you - you can’t keep doing this blowing up crap and storming off. You’re better than that, and you’re bigger than your past. None of this is your fault, and I’m sorry we brought up your mom. You need to trust us, Erik - you’re like a brother to us and we want you in our lives. You can’t keep shutting us out like you have been,” Raoul was always to the point with Erik, and it was the only way to get through to him. 

“You don’t need to ask for our forgiveness, just don’t push us away,” Meg added. “So, play something for us.” Erik chose a piece he hadn’t played much of before. He chose “Vocalise” and began to tell a story through his music, allowing Rachmaninoff to speak for him. After another 20 minutes or so, Meg and Raoul said their farewells to Erik, who promised to come by for dinner later that evening.

As Meg and Raoul left Erik alone in the practice room, Erik pulled out his violin and began composing a few new pieces for his symphony, but the notes weren’t coming. Nothing inspired him and he felt strangely lost without guidance. After a while of attempting to find his muse and inspiration for tenderness, which Dr. Marrenesco always tried to pull out of him, Erik decided to pack up his things and return to his apartment. Just as Erik opened the door and began walking down the hallway, the most sultry, dark alto voice quietly rang through the old hallway a few doors away from his room. He froze dead in his tracks, a feeling he had never experienced before in his entire life pulsed through his veins down to his bones.

_ My God in heaven, whose voice does this belong? Ethereal… seductive… oh awaken my soul, you angel. _

Through the dark chords of Vocalize, Erik heard the most beautiful voice he had ever encountered. He had to know. Who was she? As her voice pulled him, lured him back to the vacant corridor, he saw an angel, her eyes closed, her silky, brown curls pulled into a beautiful twisted bun, long strands escaping and gently framing her delicate face. Never before had he seen such a creature, such a siren who lured him away from reality and into the world of something never yet exposed to him before: a world of love, of romance, and of tenderness… and the veil of darkness covering his entire existence began to slowly dissipate.

_ Oh my angel, sing for me… rescue me… heal me. _


	3. Restarting

**Chapter 3: Restarting**

**_A Week Before Christmas, December 2002_ **

Christmas was quickly approaching and it would be the first Christmas without Gustav. Both Christine and Nadir fell into a slump. It had been 10 months since the funeral; and although the months went quickly, the days felt heavy and slow and clunky. Christine attempted to fall into a new routine. Earlier that spring, she decided to work full time at Nadir’s law office. And as much as Nadir predicted, the uptick in returning soldiers’ claims with the VA was substantial. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan had gained a tremendous amount of publicity and casualties. With the increase in casework, Nadir had to hired two paralegals and added a partner to his rather small firm. Relying mostly on grants and donations from different non-profit organizations, Nadir was able to accomplish quite a lot. He was thankful to have Christine working full time in the office during the week; not just for the extra administrative help, but for the company as well.

* * *

**_Spring and Summer 2002_ **

It was a difficult summer for them both, but certainly more so for Christine. The daunting task of cleaning out and re-organizing the house in the woods was really overwhelming. She honestly didn’t realize how much of a pack-rat her father was - he kept EVERYTHING. About two months after the funeral, Easter weekend quickly approached and Christine mustered up the courage to go to the attic and started going through the multitude of boxes. Sheet music was tossed into random, unorganized bins everywhere. She even came across at least three storage bins filled with all her art projects and special homework assignments since her nursery school days. Some items made her sincerely belly laugh while some brought a burst of crushing tears. And some items, mostly old macaroni and pretzel art pieces, brought the occasional mouse carcass, which emitted shrieks of undignified horror and shock.  _ Good Lord, Dad, seriously? We live in the woods, and you didn’t realize mice would find their appetites in stale macaroni and pretzels? _ Sometimes it was nice saying things aloud - perhaps Gustav would hear, wherever his soul was. Somehow Christine found that cleaning and organizing was cathartic and kept her mind occupied. 

It wasn’t until the summer and the approaching of Gustav’s birthday in late August when things started feeling oppressive. Christine couldn’t quite find the courage to clean out Gustav’s bedroom or go through his personal items. That was a day she had to call Nadir to come for support.

“You don’t even have to ask, Chrissie. Let’s leave a little early from the office on Friday and I’ll spend the weekend with you at the house. Then when it’s done, we’ll come back to the apartment, ok?” Nadir knew it would be a really tough weekend, and he also knew neither he nor Christine should be alone to face that daunting task.

“Thanks, Uncle Nadir. At least let me buy you some dinner as a thank you. There’s just one place in his room I can’t go through yet - I know he had a lot of personal letters and treasures in his nightstand, and I don’t want to go through it… not right now,” Christine admitted. She very rarely stayed at the house in the woods. The weeks following the funeral, Christine’s personal items ended up migrating into Nadir’s apartment in Philadelphia, near the law firm. It was a really small place, but Nadir welcomed her with open arms. The house in the woods was too big for just her, and the memories were still too raw to stay there all alone.

“Deal on dinner, but you’ll owe me big time when I have to clean out your old man’s tighty whities, kiddo.” And for the first time since February, Christine burst out in hysterical laughter. 

“OH MY GAWD, Nadir! I do NOT need to know about your old man underwear, for real. I swear if you say anything about skid marks, you are on your damn own tomorrow night,” Christine wiped tears from her eyes while mimicking the dry heaves.  _ That sound… that’s MY laughter. But it’s too soon, though, isn’t it? _

The laughter slowly dwindled as they made their way to the car to head home for the night. “I miss your laugh, kiddo - it’s beautiful music to my ears. Promise me you won’t let that music go…” Nadir was quiet with his request as Christine linked her arm with his, falling into a quiet stroll down the brick-laid sidewalks.

* * *

**_Christmas Eve, December 2002_ **

“You know, I’m not even entirely sure why I wanted to have Christmas here. But something didn’t seem right to not be here… does that even make sense?” Christine asked as she checked on the pan of lasagna in the oven. “Like, who makes lasagna for Christmas dinner? Is that even a thing?” She swiped a few loose curls from her face while closing the oven door, fanning herself with a potholder.

“Well Christmas isn’t my holiday, but I will NEVER turn down your lasagna. I don’t know what 20 year old can make lasagna like yours. Damn I’m ready to eat,” Nadir chuckled and smacked his now old-man belly.

“Ehhh, I dunno, I just don’t like super saucy or overly cheesy lasagna like that store-bought garbage. Dad wasn’t much of a cook either, but it was always fun making lasagna together with him. Guess it’s kinda fitting that we’re doing this on Christmas Eve, huh?” Christine started staring off again in her typical fashion since the funeral. Nadir was so incredibly curious as to where she went in those moments - what was she thinking about? What did she see? Most of the furniture in the house had been sold at either auctions or listed online for buyers. Christine consulted with Nadir at length about what to do with the house in the woods - should she sell it? Should she keep it? Should she rent it out? The deed was transferred over to her after Gustav’s death. He left her a considerable amount in his will - he never touched a penny from his retirement or from his business. The man saved everything for the very one in his life - his angel of music, his Christine. A few weeks after the funeral, Christine found herself the owner of her dad’s pick-up truck, the house in the woods, and an inheritance of over $750,000. Christine was in shock when Nadir went through Gustav’s will, she couldn’t comprehend how her Father could have saved so much and be so frugal.

The timer on the microwave quickly brought Christine back to wherever her mind ventured off to and took the lasagna out of the oven. More curls fell out of her hair tie and with exasperation, Christine gave an annoyed grunt. “I swear I’m gonna chop off these damn curls!” she gritted and quickly pulled her hair back up.

“You better not - those curls are your trademark. Besides, your dad loved them… don’t cut ‘em off,” Nadir pleaded. Gustav loved Christine’s hair - it was the same as her mother’s. Long, thick, silky curls that framed their small figures so perfectly. The curls were endearing when Christine was a lot younger, but as she grew into her own, her hair turned that young girl into a beautiful young woman.

“You know I won’t do that… they’re just annoying,” she confessed as she dished out a huge slice of lasagna onto Nadir’s plate. 

“What, no garlic bread?!” Nadir chided.

“You know what, old man?!” Christine threw a few salad leaves at him, followed by a chunk of tomato and she broke out in hysterical laughter as Nadir picked the lettuce out of his hair and threw the tomato back at her. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, kid!” as he chucked a crouton at her. “You know you can’t win against a stubborn, old fart.”

“Hey, you said it, not me, Old Fart!” Christine mocked as she threw the crouton back at Nadir. “Now go sit down and eat before it gets cold and before I decide to serve you another slice of lasagna into your lap,” she scolded with a mock middle finger.

“How very lady like of you, you brat,” Nadir teased as he shoved a huge forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “Mmmm, deeeeeelicious! Thanks for cooking, kid.”

The meal and the banter continued through the clean up of dirty dishes and scrubbing of baking pans. Christine went to the stereo in the living room and put on a mix of classical Christmas songs. “Hey Uncle Nadir?” Christine shyly asked. “Do you think we can go through the box of stuff we took out from Dad’s nightstand? I think I’m ready to do it if you’re here with me.”

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask. Where’s the box?” Christine pointed back to Gustav’s now empty bedroom - the furniture set had been sold. When it sold, Christine quickly placed all of the items from the nightstand into a box and left it in the empty room. She knew it was time to unpack it. “Ok, here it is. Do you want me to make us some tea? Maybe we should do this in the living room by the tree… it’s one of those presents we should unpack as a family, what do you think?” Christine stared at the boxed, feeling her heart thrum into her throat, her anxiety bubbling up.  _ Oh Dad, I pray you didn’t leave me anything else I can’t handle. Losing you was losing my world. Oh God… _ She took a deep breath and carefully pull up the flaps of the box.

About an hour went by as Christine and Nadir took turns opening each piece of paper. There were letters and pictures from his childhood; old love letters Gustav and Marie Clare wrote to each other; letters from his parents during his deployment to Vietnam. Some old trinkets and toys from Christine’s childhood as well that he wanted to hang on to. Another half an hour and the box was empty, except for one envelope sealed shut. “This is newer… it’s Dad’s handwriting.” They got quiet, and Nadir reached for the envelope.

“January 27, 2003,” he read the envelope. “Do not open until…” Nadir couldn’t finish and he felt a knot form in his throat.

Wiping tears from her cheeks, Christine took the envelope in her hands, sniffling, “Did you know he wrote this?” Nadir shook his head no. “Ok…” Christine took a deep breath and slid her finger under the closed envelope, and took out the letter with shaking hands.

_ My dearest Christine, my angel of music, _

_ I am so sorry I can’t be there with you, but I want you to know how much I love you. I love you more than you will ever know, but pray someday you will know the love of a parent for a child, for their own flesh and blood. After I’m gone, I know you will struggle and I know you will be hurting. And I’m sorry I couldn’t find the strength to fight and hang on. I’m sorry I failed you as your Father. _

_ Ever since you were born, I have loved you with every breath, every tear, every laugh, and yes, every stubborn fight. You are, and were, and will always remain, my world and my life. I want you to be happy, and I don’t want you to lose who you are to your grief, to your sadness, to your anxieties about what is to come. You will find your path in this life - you are so young, so incredibly bright, and so full of warmth and love that I know you will make it out of this as a stronger woman.  _

_ I’ve seen you grow up to be the most beautiful woman I knew you would become. (I claim success there, Nadir has nothing to do with it - and yes, I know he’s reading this). You will find your path in this life no matter what you choose. My love will never falter, my pride in you will never cease, and I promise to see you again in Heaven. _

_ There is one thing I do request, but only when you feel in your soul and heart that you are ready. Please go back to school - go wherever you want and major in whatever you want. Find your passion, find your peace, find your inspiration… but most importantly, find the beauty and contentment and love in whatever you want to do. I will always be with you, and you will know I’m there because you’ll feel me by your side.  _

_ Nadir - my request for you is the most difficult I’ve ever requested: take care of my girl - protect her, guide her, and help her. I entrust to you, my brother and my friend, take care of my baby girl. _

_ I love you both with every fiber of my being, and I promise to be with you always. Now and forever. _

_ All my love,  
_ _ Daddy/Gustav _

Christine and Nadir sat facing each other on the floor, hands linked tightly together under the soft glow of the white Christmas tree lights. They sat in silence, staring at the letter laying in Christine’s lap, teardrops dotting the paper. “How did he know?” Christine asked a random question into the void, not sure if she was sincerely looking for an answer.

“He was, and will always be, your dad. He knows… knew you better than anyone else. I need to tell you something, Christine.” He took a long pause. “Your dad and I talked a lot about you after his diagnosis last year. We know how much you struggled with school and feeling like you needed to live up to his success as a musician and teacher. He didn’t want you to mirror him or be like him… he wanted you to find your path, find your passion, do whatever your heart desired to find your place in this world. He wanted you to become your own person, someone strong, capable, and open to all possibilities. And we both know how much you have struggled to battle your anxiety and depression. Consider this, Chris: your dad left you a considerable amount of money so you wouldn’t have to worry about or stress about making sure things were managed. This was his gift to you - you were, and still are, his world… and my world. I will never take over as your dad and I will never try to do so; you’re the daughter I never had a chance to have of my own. But I promise you, I will always be there with you and for you, whatever you want, I support you. And above all else, I love you with every fiber of my being- never lose sight of the love your dad, and me, have for you. Hold onto those memories because they will get you through these tough times. I love you, kid,” Nadir wrapped his arms around Christine and held her tight.

“Uncle Nadir, you are my family, and the only family I have left. Don’t leave me alone, stay on me, motivate me because I’m scared to fail. It’s funny how we find this letter now, because over the summer, I found boxes and boxes of sheet music in the attic (Dad sucks as organizing), and I started cataloging everything, I even created a database and digitized all the sheet music. I think that’s what I want to do, maybe library sciences or something, and maybe a music minor?” Ideas were churning at full speed, and for the first time in her entire life, Christine felt excited about what the future would hold.

“Show me!” Nadir felt a new found burst of motivation as well and Christine got up and walked into Gustav’s old office to see this new project.

* * *

**_Early April 2003_ **

“I got in! I got in! Nadir, I got IN!!!” Christine shrieked with absolute excitement. She did it - she applied and she was accepted. Following the holidays, Christine was determined to restart her life with the new gumption growing from reading Gustav’s final words to inspire her. Western Cypress University boasted of highly esteemed music and library science departments. She had submitted her college application for acceptance for the 2003 fall semester. It was during the first days of April when she received her acceptance letter. “They loved my cataloging project with dad’s music and they want me to come to the campus next week to meet with the library science department chair to go over course planning. Oh my God I’m so excited!! I GOT IN!!” She jumped into Nadir’s arms and he whirled her around in his arms. 

“I am so incredibly proud of you, kid!! Dinner and dessert tonight - my treat!!” Nadir was ecstatic. He hadn’t seen Christine this jubilant in years, and the thought of seeing her thrive in a truly nurturing academic setting made his heart swell with incredible pride. “You know this means you can’t work full time here anymore in the office come August, right? Help an old man out and at least help out when you can. I can’t pick on these TWO CLOWNS OF PARALEGALS like I can with you!” He shouted and emphasized those endearing titles to Mark and Darius, who sat crammed together in a shared desk space, hunched over their laptops. Recent graduates from Drexel University, both young men were currently in law school and were hired by Nadir to assist with research for their rapidly growing clientele.

“Chris, I swear to God, I’m going to throw something at your Uncle if he razzes us one more freaking time,” Darius rolled his eyes unamused.

“Learn to fight your own battles, Darius. I’m not doing it anymore...” Christine teased back, and stuck out her tongue.

Wednesday morning quickly approached as Christine woke up to a rather cool April morning. Today was the meeting with the library science department chair to walk through her academic plan and register for her first batch of classes for the fall semester. After her shower, Christine worked through her long curls and decided on an appropriate outfit - skinny jeans, a white tank top underneath a maroon red drape cardigan, a white floral scarf to match and maroon red flats. With one more final glance in the mirror, Christine smiled at her reflection and gave herself an approving nod. In a last minute decision, she decided to pack up some sheet music and brewed a quick travel mug of hot earl grey tea for the road. Within minutes, she merged onto the highway to make the hour and a half drive to Western Cypress University.

It was around 9:30AM when she finally pulled into the parking garage a block from campus and parked. She still had a half hour before her meeting, so she decided to walk around the campus and get her bearings. The campus was temporarily quiet before the second bout of morning classes were dismissed, but Christine felt like she could scream with excitement.  _ I love this campus - I feel at home here. Oh my God, these trees are huge! Oh man, that building looks like a castle! _ Her mind wouldn’t quiet down, and before realizing it, her feet had led her to Main Hall for her meeting. Looking up at the rather mundane, dreary building, she stopped to take a deep breath before opening the doors.

About an hour later, Christine emerged from Main Hall absolutely floating. Dr. Thomas Blegg, chair for the library science department, was an endearing older man who was absolutely smitten with Christine’s archival and cataloging project of sheet music. He walked her through expectations and even started chatting about potential internship opportunities with the Corvell Center of Music in the city. Christine couldn’t get enough and she felt her fingers tingling with a hunger to find a piano.

Walking down a cobblestone sidewalk, Christine came upon the music building. It was old and rundown, but rumor had it that the university was about to break ground on a new building within the next two years. In the meantime, Christine entered the building, navigating her way timidly through the multitude of hallways in an attempt to find the practice rooms. It was really quiet - she guessed it was because finals week would be approaching in about three weeks and everyone was currently in class. As she turned the corner to a hallway that seemed almost forgotten, she heard someone playing a piano, pounding keys so furiously and hard it made her heart stop. She didn’t want to intrude on that musician, so she quickly skirted down to the dead end of the hallway.

Flicking on the light, the room protected a rather unloved upright piano. It was a little out of tune, but the sound was unique and Christine fell in love with this room. There was something about it, feeling like it told the story of musicians, of music, of creativity, of something she couldn’t quite figure out. There was a presence here she couldn’t identify but it was strangely calming. Immediately her mind went to Gustav’s letter: “You will know I’m there because you’ll feel me by your side.”  _ Ok Dad, I feel you here. This is for you _ . And immediately, her hands began unwrapping Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise” and within the first few bars of chords, Christine let her voice ring out and closed her eyes in reverie, her fingers leading her through in memory. She felt a soft smile creep to her lips as she felt an inexplicable presence wrapping around her.

What she couldn’t see was a pair of ocean blue eyes peering through the door’s glass pane, hands grasping at his heart, and a mouth becoming painfully dry in awe.


	4. Chapter 4: Consumed (Christine & Erik)

**Chapter 4: Consumed (** **Christine & Erik)**

_ What should I do - should I knock, or wait, or leave, or leave my name or phone number? _ Erik’s mind churned in spiraling chaos, which was so incredibly out of character for him. He was always meticulous and careful and purposefully orchestrated in every movement, every interaction, every uttered word, every thought. But this painfully beautiful angel that sat before him, lost in music, moving with ethereal elegance and grace left him feeling, feeling… what was this feeling? What is this aching that left him clutching and grasping his heart as if it were exploding in agonizing ecstasy? He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything about her set his soul on fire. And her voice, oh her voice, he heard music from her soul, and every note she sang prickled Erik’s skin almost painfully but he didn’t want it to stop. He loved this feeling, he craved it the longer she sang. Before realizing it, Christine’s fingers glided to the last chords of “Vocalise” and took a satisfied breath and smiled, her eyes remained closed. Erik quickly but clumsily rushed away from the door, dreading the thought of being discovered. But wait, no, more music began. This song he didn’t recognize, what was she playing? The opening chords told of searching, of longing. Her voice was quiet, almost as if singing a lullaby to calm his aching heart.

_ I roll the window down  
_ _ And then begin to breathe in  
_ _ The darkest country road  
_ _ And the strong scent of evergreen  
_ _ From the passenger seat as you are driving me home _

_ Then looking upwards  
_ _ I strain my eyes and try  
_ _ To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites  
_ _ From the passenger seat as you are driving me home _

_ Do they collide?  
_ _ I ask and you smile  
_ _ With my feet on the dash  
_ _ The world doesn't matter _

_ When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride  
_ _ When you need directions then I'll be the guide  
_ _ For all time  
_ __ For all time

Something in Erik triggered a frenzied search for a pen and paper.  _ I have to know what this song is. _ He frantically scribbled the words he heard her sing to him. Did she know he was there? Something about her made him strangely aware of some unseen connection.  _ What is this? Who is she? I need MORE! _ It was a thirst that could not be quenched; it was a hunger that could not be satisfied; and it was a beast that could not be contained. Erik was consumed. He couldn’t calm the chaos coursing through his veins, he had to find a release, he had to create… to compose!  _ Oh God to compose for her! I will write for you! Oh my muse, your voice will haunt me and follow me all the rest of my tortured days. My symphony will be for you… it’s all for you, my angel, it will all be for you! _ Erik felt in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t be enough, that HE wouldn’t be enough. But his music… it was his blood, his vital organs, the very air which filled his lungs… his life. He would give her his life.

Christine timidly opened the door to the practice room. With her back turned, she switched off the light to the room and quietly closed the door. As she turned to head down the hallway, Erik quickly bolted into a practice room directly across and slammed the door. Christine’s head shot up in enough time to see a very tall figure arching rigid shoulders pass by in the adjacent practice room. The first thought that ran through her mind, “So much talent in these walls. I wonder who was playing the piano earlier - I’ve never heard anything like that before” as she walked towards the exit.

The urgency in Erik’s voice immediately had Meg and Raoul returning to campus to track down their friend. Erik was beside himself, feeling every bit of anxiety and hardened heart melting away - he was left in a proverbial pool of mush. His hands ached and yearned for release, but his go-to composers and pieces were so incredibly inadequate, almost inappropriate to tell of this unknown emotion emanating from his body. What to play? With a deep breath of reverence, Erik picked up his violin and played what came rather unnaturally.  _ Meditation on Thais… is it not fitting to play for such an angel such as her? _

Meg and Raoul found themselves wandering about the music building towards the practice room they had left Erik. They heard such a peaceful sound, heartfelt, tender, loving… Erik? They were standing outside the room breathless, watching their friend melting into himself rather than collapsing. Meg looked at Raoul and mouthed the question, “What happened… What is happening?” Raoul was speechless. In the time they had become like family, never had Erik shown this side. He was hard, rigid, inflexible, and his music always spoke of the same themes. What happened to their friend? As the last note wrapped around them, Meg gently tapped the door. Erik turned with tears caressing his face, his complexion paler and whiter than normal, struggling for a breath. “Erik, what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” Raoul’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Oh my friends, not a ghost… oh no, not a ghost, but an angel. The most beautiful, ethereal creature who ever graced and blessed my tortured existence. She was… she is…” he whispered, not even speaking directly to them, “I must compose for her, everything will be for her… it must be for her, and only her. Oh what an angel this earth does not deserve!” Slowly emerging from his stupor, Erik spoke of an angel, whose voice must surely have been a gift from the heavens above. He had never felt this way in his life before; Christine had awoken in him the man he was meant to be. As Erik became more and more animated in his story about his angel, Meg and Raoul realized what transpired… 

“This feeling… this painfully nourishing feeling… Meg, Raoul - can it be that I am in love?”

The end of the semester quickly came to a close and Erik found himself composing feverishly. Every waking thought, feeling, memory was of his angel. He was adamant she couldn’t possibly be real - it was one occurrence, one vision but he hadn’t seen her since that day… oh that blissful day. Dr. Marrenesco was constantly shocked with Erik’s changes - his chosen pieces, his compositions, and his simple daily interactions with the professors and staff within the music department were gentle, kind, and daresay tender. Erik only spoke of this angel to Meg and Raoul; but everyone welcomed this drastic change. Whatever muse that now consumed Erik, everyone was enthralled - his composing drew them in to another level of ethereal elegance that left lungs breathless.  _ But where has my angel gone? Where is she? Was she even real? _

With the blink of an eye, summer came to an uneventful conclusion and the 2003 fall semester was quickly approaching. Christine was excited to head back to campus to meet her new roommate, Danielle. They had spoken on the phone and really seemed to hit it off; it would be a great year back to a new school, with new people and a new purpose. About two weeks before the semester was to begin, Christine made the drive to Western Cypress University. Mission of the day: buy her books and meet Danielle. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon with a strong breeze, sending the sweet smell of wild honeysuckle wafting through the air. Christine parked in the garage off campus and started walking towards the library. “Crap! I forgot my course codes, you dork!” Christine quietly chided herself.  _ Duh, it’s called the library _ . 

Christine made her way to the library to log on to access her course schedule and the codes needed to buy her books at the university bookstore. She loved the smell of the library - there was no better smell than old, well-loved books, and even the sound of clicking keyboards and the quiet murmur of photocopiers and printers. Christine was in her element. Upon entering the library, Christine noticed two long tables which served home to public computers for the student body.  _ Ooh, perfect! _ Sitting down, she attempted her login credentials.

Username, C D 359591; password… password…  _ Crap, what’s the one they issued? Um, I think maybe… _ The computer let out an obnoxious error sound. Invalid credentials. Two more attempts and the system will lock you out.  _ Crap, ok, um… _ Invalid.  _ Oh come on! I know this is the right password, what the heck? _ Invalid credentials - please contact university IT services.  _ Shit! _ Christine grumbled under her breath and clicked the OK button and started walking towards the double-paned glass doors.

“Uh, you can’t go out through those doors. You’ll have to use the doors on the other side!” a rather pleasant voice rang out behind her. “Were you having issues with the computer?” the voice asked becoming more decadent with each annunciation.

“Oh, it’s not a big…” Christine turned and saw a very attractive young man walking towards her.  _ Oh my _ … “uh, um, I mean, it’s no big deal. I just forgot my password and now I’m locked out. I’ll figure it out later, but thank you.” She made to turn and continue her exit, but the young man pressed further.

“Well, let me see if I can help if you want. I’m Kevin, by the way, Kevin Trickman, I support the library’s IT service desk. Have a seat and I’ll see what I can do.” Oh he was smart and polite… such a gentleman, and might Christine even venture to acknowledge how very attractive he was.  _ Kevin _ . 

“Um, yeah, sure, I really appreciate it. Thanks!” Christine practically blurted out almost too loudly. She was nervous. Wait, why nervous?  _ Is he… no, he can’t be… there’s no way he’s flirting. He’s just being nice. _ Kevin sat down at one of the computers and pulled up an extra chair for Christine.

“Ok, first things first. I’ll need your first and last name and then your student I.D. number. Of course just for informational purposes,” he winked with a smile.  _ Oh my God, he IS flirting. Holy crap, he thinks I’m cute… maybe pretty? ! Ok, calm yourself down! _ Christine’s heart was racing. If it was any quieter in the library, she was positive Kevin would hear her heartbeat, and if he was sitting any closer, he without a doubt would see her pulse pounding in her exposed neck. Christine divulged the personal details to her admirer. “So, Miss Daae, what brings you to Western Cypress? Freshman, transfer student?”

Oh it was so easy talking to him. Christine normally held her cards close, but there was something about this guy, how very disarming he was. And before too long, Christine and Kevin shared some personal stories and details, but were suddenly interrupted by a text.  _ Ugh, sorry I’m so late - traffic sucked. In parking garage. Meet outside student union building? _

“Sorry, it’s my roommate. We’re meeting for the first time today and walk around. Thank you so much, Kevin, for your help. Hopefully I’ll see you around campus once the semester starts.” Christine flashed a smile at Kevin. “Well, Chris, the pleasure was all mine. I really hope to see you… or preferably have you get locked out of the system again and I’ll come to the rescue.” Kevin smiled and extended his hand. Christine looked down and shook his in return, but he lingered, letting his thumb lightly trace over skin, sending chills up her arm. All she could do was smile. “Bye Kevin…” she said with a shy giggle.

“Oh my God, Danielle, you wouldn’t believe it!” Christine couldn’t wait to share the juicy story with her roommate. As they walked around campus, Christine felt so at home.  _ I’m finally finding my place _ . Danielle was a nursing major and was only one year away from finishing her undergraduate degree. She was interested in Christine’s very interesting background of library sciences major, music minor and even potentially tacking on a Russian studies minor. “Um, Russian, but WHY?” Danielle was flabbergasted. 

“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to learn a foreign language, but French, Spanish and German never appealed to me. Maybe the foreign language teachers in high school didn’t make it fun. Maybe the college level into classes will be different,” Christine shrugged.  _ Russian is just cool… and Russia has some amazing composers… Rachmaninoff… “Vocalise”... Dad… _ Christine fell into a quiet reverence. Suddenly an overwhelming sadness seemed to put a cloud over her, despite such a euphoric day it had been.  _ I really miss you, Dad. I wish you were here… _

The afternoon continued on and soon stomachs began growling with hunger. Danielle was adamant about Christine going back to the library to hunt down this mysterious Kevin guy and ask him to join them for a bite to eat. “Oh no no no no! I can’t do that! No way, Danielle!” Christine was stricken with panic. “Nope, not buying it… let’s go. If he’s there, then perfect. If not, well, you’ll just have to keep coming back to find out where he is. Let’s go, Chris!” And Danielle grabbed Christine’s arm and pulled her towards the library.

The smell of well-loved books hit Christine’s senses all over again, and her eyes immediately beelined to the computer she and Kevin sat at just a mere few hours before.  _ Oh Lord, there he is _ . Kevin’s head perked up at the sound of a familiar nervous giggle. “Well, if this isn’t just the best surprise of my entire day. Not just one chance meeting, but now I think this isn’t just happenstance,” Kevin mused aloud to the familiar, shy girl from earlier that day. The three exchanged pleasantries and introductions and soon the invitation for dinner was belted awkwardly out by Christine.  _ Well you drooled over that one, you inarticulate nerd _ .

“As wonderful of an offer as that sounds,”  _ Great, I misread this - I should’ve known he wasn’t interested. He’s probably got a girlfriend _ , “I actually have dinner slow cooking back at my apartment. Can I interest you ladies in a home cooked meal instead?” 

“Well sign me up, Mr. KT - I will never refuse. What’s on the menu?” Danielle managed all the talking as Christine’s head became a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings.

Dinner consisted of crockpot lasagna soup and oven-baked garlic bread. The three sat down to eat as they all began talking about their majors, their hopes and dreams, and what they saw for their futures. Before too long, the time on the clock revealed it was 7:30PM. “Well Kevin, thank you for dinner. It was great meeting you! I gotta head home since I have a shift tomorrow at the nursing home to pick up. Chris, are you coming?” Danielle was a little leary in letting Christine stay behind, but Christine wasn’t ready to go. “Um, I think I’ll hang back for a little bit, but thanks for meeting up with me today. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow or sometime over the weekend before we start moving into the apartment, ok?” Christine walked Danielle to the door. Danielle lowered her voice, “Look Chris, he’s really nice and I like him, but just be careful, ok?” Christine gave a reassuring nod and hugged Danielle goodbye.

“Well, now that I have you to myself, what would you like to do?” Kevin mused from the kitchen while cleaning up the dirty dishes. Christine felt awkward, she wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. “We can listen to music… I have my guitar in my room if you’re interested.” Christine’s ears perked up.

“What’s your playlist like?” Christine asked curiously as Kevin led her to his bedroom and turned on his laptop.

Oh how the hours bled into one another. They first started off with a respectable distance, Christine sitting on the edge of Kevin’s bed while he sat at his desk going through his playlists. Within an hour, that distance closed, with both finding themselves sitting next to each other, with Kevin playing the guitar and Christine bashfully and quietly humming. She was nervous, her blood rushing through your veins at a furious rate, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen, but her lips craved contact. And in an instant, the guitar placed back in its home in the case, Kevin kissed her. He kissed her with an urgency and intensity she had never experienced before. Her hands were not her own - she was touching his face, her lips responding to the softness and intensity of Kevin’s kisses. His fingers tracing her jawline, skating down her neck, his thumbs caressing her collar bone in such a way her heart must have skipped a beat. And before too long, she found himself snuggling in his arms, laying with him, and listening to the serenading chords of “Vocalise.”

It was getting late, almost 10:30PM and Christine still had over an hour to drive to Nadir’s apartment in the city. “When will I see you next?” Kevin pleaded, not wanting her to leave. “I don’t know, I’m going on a day hiking trip in two days so maybe after that? I move into the apartment on south campus with Danielle in a week. I’d like to see you again after my trip,” Christine confessed.

“Maybe I should join you on that hiking trip…” Kevin offered but Christine was hesitant. 

“Um, we can talk about it. Call me?” Christine gave a glassy look and smiled. Kevin instantly moved in for a long, goodnight kiss before sending Christine on her way. She left floating, but there was still something hanging over her which she couldn’t place. That overwhelming sense of sadness still sat on her shoulders. She wanted to tell her Dad about this young man she met, about how excited she was for this new chapter in her life, but Gustav wasn’t there, not anymore.  _ Oh Dad, I wish you were here _ . Without realizing it, Christine’s feet led her to the music building rather than the parking garage. And without a thought, she entered. It was so incredibly late - no one would be here at this hour.  _ Maybe just one song… _ She found the old, rundown practice room from her previous visit to the campus in April. The unloved upright piano still sat untouched and the fluorescent lights remained dulled.

_ It’s almost 11:00PM, no one will be here _ , Christine determined and didn’t close the practice room door behind her. Instead, the door remained half open and she situated herself onto the piano bench, fingers softly caressing the keys.  _ I miss you, Dad _ . And with her typical deep breath, Christine closed her eyes and began moving with the flowing chords of “Vocalise.”

And there, towards the end of the hallway, stood Erik, dead in his footsteps. For four months he craved that voice, he craved and yearned and needed his angel to keep his spirit and soul fed.  _ She has returned! _


	5. Deception and Lies, Part 1

**Chapter 5: Deception and Lies, Part 1**

**_Early February 2004  
_ ** “You’re being selfish… what makes you think we’re better off not being together? You really think YOU are better off without me? You are nothing without us, without me… no one understands you like I do; no one loves you or will ever love you as much as me. How can you possibly think breaking up is ever an option?” Kevin’s voice was rapidly changing from pleading to snarling, almost venomous. Christine stood there shaking behind the apartment door.

“Kevin, you need to leave. I’ve told you over and over that it’s done, I’m done… I don’t want to be with you anymore. There is no more us - you need to let this go and accept it; let me go,” her voice was cracking and breaking, the fear she attempted to push down into her cut rapidly bubbling to the surface, leaving her trembling as she tried to force Kevin from the doorway. “Kevin, you’re scaring me and if you don’t leave, I’m calling campus security.” With that threat, Kevin flew into a rage and barreled through the door, forcing his way in. His anger palpable and menacing.

“You don’t EVER threaten me!!” he growled and grabbed Christine's cell phone and smashed it to the ground.

“Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?!” rang out another male voice from across the breezeway of the apartment building. “Dude, you better get outta here or I’m calling the police. Threaten me man, go ahead.” Christine saw a rather large, burly young man, probably one of the university football players or lacrosse players who was the one throwing the parties every Thursday and Friday, coming up the stairs in the breezeway.

Kevin got in Christine’s face, mere inches from her nose, anger coursing through his body. “This isn’t over Christine; don’t you dare think it is. You’ll be sorry you did this.” Kevin stormed off, leaving Christine visibly shaken.

“Um, yeah, hey, you alright?” asked the young man. “What was the about?” He was puzzled but didn’t seem overly concerned.

“It’s fine. I’m, uh, I guess, yeah I’m ok. Thanks for stepping in. Sorry to disturb you.” Christine quickly retreated back into her apartment and bolted the door shut, crumbling immediately onto the floor, gasping with sobs.  _ I have to get out of here. Home, I want to go home. But where IS home anymore? Who is my home? _

*  *  *

It wasn’t a single, distinctive event that caused it. It was a series of, what seemed like, a multitude of small events and happenings that once added up, amounted to a colossal tornado of turmoil, with the storm’s debris of emotional and mental abuse, leaving a trail of helplessness and self-doubt and confusion in its aftermath. Christine tried to drum up the series of events from the very first day she met Kevin just two weeks before the fall semester was to start.  _ How did it go so wrong? How did I not see this? Why didn’t I listen to Nadir? Will Nadir forgive me for what I’ve done to him? _ She sat at her laptop, staring blankly at the empty body of an email with a subject line simply stating: “You were right - I’m so sorry”. The cursor on the screen blinked methodically at her, her vision blurring behind the tears welling in her eyes. A small voice she thought that had almost abandoned her during these past few days since breaking things off with Kevin began to speak…  _ Music, Christine, music… go, play, sing, find release. _ Almost mechanically, Christine grabbed a stack of sheet music and music books, packed up her laptop, and headed for the only place on campus she felt she could breathe and be free and feel safe. And it was a place she knew she could hear  _ his voice _ .

* * *

**_August 2003 - “Well he was pretty insistent on coming with us… It’s really no big deal, right?”_ **

It was getting late and Christine knew she still had a long drive back to Nadir’s apartment in the city. She glanced at her phone to check the time and conceded it was time to leave. She had left Kevin’s apartment just a little over an hour ago and she already had a text message from him.  _ You have left me breathless, Miss Daae. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe. _ She smiled as she opened the practice room door and rather bluntly staggered into a very tall figure standing outside the room in the dimly lit hallway. “Holy crap!” she blurted out, her hand immediately shot up to her chest to steady her heartbeat. “Uh, ahh, um, apologies miss,” incoherent mumbled words stumbled out as the tall figure quickly turned his back and sped off with full speed down another hallway towards the exit. Before Christine even had the chance to look up and piece together this awkward exchange, the figure had vanished, leaving behind the most intoxicating aroma of earl grey tea, antiqued wood, and ivory soap.  _ Who was that? _

Over the next few days, Christine and Nadir started doing an inventory of what to pack, what to leave behind, and what needed to be bought for move-in day to the apartment. With some apprehension, Christine decided to not put the house in the woods up for sale, and instead it did lay empty and vacant, but Nadir promised to check on things and keep the grass mowed during Christine’s time away at Western Cypress. “Well I hope you like him, Nadir. Kevin is so nice and so sweet, I’ve never felt this way before,” Christine confessed.

“I’m sure he’s nice, Christine, but just… tread carefully. When will I meet him?”

“Well he was pretty insistent on coming with us on our hiking trip. Are you ok if he comes along? It’s really no big deal, right?” Christine asked hesitantly. She and Nadir had this day trip planned for a few weeks now, to have a day to reflect on what all happened and occurred in the past year, to reconnect, and to have some extra bonding time. “Oh, um, well why don’t you and Kevin just go together, it’s ok. Just make sure he comes by the apartment to pick you up so I can meet him.” Nadir tried, and somehow successfully, hid his disappointment.  _ She’s growing up, Nadir - she’s not a child anymore, she’s a beautiful young woman. Just keep your promise to Gus - keep her safe. _

*

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Khan - Christine speaks very highly of you. I understand that you’ve given up your spot on this little pre-planned trip and I thank you for allowing me to fill your place,” Kevin retorted politely but with a slight smugness in his demeanor that made Nadir cringe.  _ I wish Gus was here; he’d help me run this runt out the door and away from Christine. She’s too good for him. _ “Nice to meet you,” Nadir passively greeted Kevin and immediately doted his attention to Christine. “Please drive safe, kid. I’ll see you when you get home. I love you.” Christine leaned in for a fatherly hug and Kevin extended his hand in their departure.  _ I don’t like him, not one bit. _ It was all Nadir could do not to tell Christine to cancel the trip, ditch the smug boy, and have a quiet night at home.  _ You can’t - she’s growing up, she’s not a child anymore. And you’re not her dad _ .

*  *  *

**_August 2003 - “You have to push your way through and take over, Christine, it’s the only way to get through life…”_ **

“Hi Danielle, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Kevin politely greeted Danielle. “Wow, that’s a lot of stuff you got there, you certainly are a girly-girl, aren’t you?” Danielle internally cringed but maintained the needed amused facade and lightheartedly laughed.  _ What the heck kind of comment is that…? _ Christine didn’t hear the jibe, but Nadir was standing close enough to sense Danielle’s apprehension.  _ I don’t like him, not one bit. But, Christine knows what she’s doing, she’s growing up, she’s not a child anymore. And I’m not her dad. _ It seemed like ever since Kevin entered Christine’s life, this was a recurring mantra Nadir would have to repeat during and after ever encounter with Kevin. Not one who was overly spiritual or religious, Nadir frequently caught himself praying, almost pleading, to God for guidance and direction on how to get through Christine’s obvious “head over heels, damn the consequences” lovesickness.

Traffic was backing up profusely into the south campus apartment complex, about two miles from the main campus, for move in day. It was organized chaos at best and Christine’s anxiety was palpable. Not one for large crowds, chaos, and overly busy environments, she defaulted to being more submissive and polite rather than overtly rude and obnoxious. It was during move-in that something about Kevin wasn’t sitting right with Christine. “Look Chris, it’s crowded and you have to find a parking spot. You can’t just sit there letting people cut you off and take what you were trying for…” he was pretty insistent. “You know what, just let me drive… switch seats.” And before she could even interject, Kevin sprung out of the passenger seat and opened the driver side door to make Christine move over. “Oh, um, what….” As she climbed over to the passenger seat, her eyes briefly met with Nadir’s in the backseat through the rearview mirror; she could see how much his look changed. Once in the passenger seat, she quickly glanced over her shoulder and saw Nadir break eye contact and stared at the floor. “Look, most of the time you just have to push your way through and take over, Christine, it’s the only way to get through life,” Kevin spoke matter-of-fact and took her hand into his and proceeded to cut through the long line and claimed a parking spot outside the building.

Items were unloaded, boxes littered the apartment, goodbyes were said, hugs were delivered, and Nadir reluctantly voiced a quiet alarm in Christine’s ear, “You take care of yourself, kid, and be careful. Be smart and listen to that incredibly smart, rational brain you have. You’re stubborn like Gus, but I know he also taught you to use your head and not lead with your heart. I’m so proud of you, and this is a big risk for you to take, but I know you’ll make the right decisions. Call me, email me, text me, come visit me whenever you want. I’m gonna miss you; don’t forget about this grumpy old fart, ok?” Christine gave a meek giggled and hugged Nadir tight.

“I love you so much, Uncle Nadir, and thank you for everything.” She couldn’t bring herself to let go just yet as Kevin strolled up to them. He placed a somewhere firm hand on Christine’s shoulder and extended his hand once again to almost dismiss Nadir. “Thank you for your assistance, Nadir, I hope we didn’t tire you out too much,” Kevin smirked.  _ I want to smack that smirk off his damn face. _

**_Her head screamed in cautious fury “NOT YET, NOT YET!” but her heart inevitably won the battle over reason. Little did she know how this defeat would pave the way to a bigger war._ **

Finally back in her apartment, Christine and Kevin got to work unpacking boxes and organizing Christine’s bedroom. “So I’m having a party at my place tonight, Chris. I want you there. I have a ton of friends and I’d love for you to meet them and also my fraternity brothers. I want you to come. Beer, friends, good times… you’ll have fun, come on,” Kevin again pleaded with insistence. 

“I mean, it sounds like fun, but I’m not big on crowds or drinking for that matter. Sounds like it’d be a loud party,” her apprehension was obvious, and Kevin grew a little impatient.

“Look, it’s just a gathering of friends and you don’t know anyone. Danielle can come if you really truly need her there for support if that would help sway your decision.”

Christine finished making the bed and placing her pillows into their pillow cases. “I would like it if she came along, Kevin. I’d like for her and I to become friends since we’ll be roommates for the next year.” Kevin rolled his eyes and let out a soft but aggravated sigh and nodded in agreement.

“Danielle, party tonight at my place. You can come with Chris,” he responded curtly, shouting down the hall towards Danielle’s room. As she emerged and stood in the doorway to Christine’s room, Danielle wasn’t too amused as she watched Kevin take hold of Christine’s chin and placed a kiss on her lips. “Of course I’ll be there for Christine. We’ll be up after we get more things unpacked and organized and we’ll get ourselves cleaned up, right Chris?” And Christine nodded in agreement.

A few hours later, Danielle and Christine were spent. The kitchen was organized, both bedrooms were in fine shape with personal touches and preferences, and the girls sat in the living room sipping on water. “I seriously didn’t think we’d have that much crap! I’m exhausted,” Danielle mused. “We need showers - we smell! Let’s get ready for the party.”

As she anticipated, the party was loud and crowded, but Christine found herself hovering closely to Danielle as she watched Kevin interacting with his friends and admired how social and outgoing he was. The evening drew on, the alcohol freely flowing, and the loudness increased substantially. Christine did her best to meet Kevin’s friends and keep the conversations going, especially since she would be seeing more and more of them as most were music majors and she was a music minor.  _ You’ll be with these people for the remainder of your college years; might as well become friends. _ Something still felt amiss and she didn’t jive with them as much as she would have liked. As was customary during her bouts of anxiety, Christine started to withdraw quickly but quietly and began fading into the background. She heard the compliments Kevin’s fraternity brothers expressed about her to Kevin.

“Damn, Trickman, she’s ballin’. How the heck did you get her?” said one of them. While in the bathroom she heard someone else’s comment, this from a female friend. “Kevin, she is the absolute sweetest girl! And she is stunning! You are so lucky to have her! We can’t wait to get to know her better.” And then another compliment made its way to her. “Yo, Kev, she’s freaking hot man. Damn!” Christine was feeling radiant. This was a completely drastic difference than how things were at Haven Lake University. She felt loved, accepted… and daresay even desirable. Something inside of her shifted, she felt more confident as a woman and not a young girl, but there was still an apprehension that weighed heavily on her shoulders which she couldn’t quite identify. This feeling bubbling inside her from the pit of her stomach was becoming overwhelming - what was this that she was feeling?

Emerging from the bathroom, her eyes locked onto Kevin’s and she felt a thrill run down her spine as he made his way through the crowd. Christine’s body thrummed with a nervous energy as she felt Kevin’s arm locked around her waist, pulling her close, their lips mere inches apart. She couldn’t explain this feeling and inexplicably tears began filling her eyes. Kevin felt a sudden shift within her and whispered, “It’s ok, come with me” and led her out of the apartment and into the courtyard outside the building. It was quiet, the night air was warm and humid, light clouds were beginning to caress the stars in the sky, and the smell of a late summer rain was wafting through a cool breeze swirling around the courtyard. Kevin led Christine to a bench that sat under a large magnolia tree. The scent and sounds infiltrated and permeated everything. 

“What’s wrong, Christine, are you ok? What happened?” Kevin was genuinely concerned. His eyes locked onto hers and took her hands into his, feeling her trembling underneath his touch. His eyes grew dark.

“I don’t know what’s happening, what I’m feeling. It’s too much, Kevin, it’s just too much. I can’t even find the words to say it,” Christine confessed and as she blinked the tears broke through and slowly slid down her cheeks. Her heart raced as she felt Kevin’s fingers gently wipe the tears from her face. His lips deliciously close.

“I know what you’re feeling, Christine, and there’s something I must confess to you. I knew the moment I saw you in the library. You took my breath away, and the moment I touched you that night, I wanted you, and I needed you. I’m just gonna say it - I’m in love with you. I love you, Christine.” His confession and admittance barrelled through her like a bolt of lightning. That’s what this feeling was… she was in love. She wanted to scream with excitement as her heart deceptively raced with agreement. Her rational head, however, was beating wildly against her heart, raising caution to not jump in too deep without accounting for everything about this man who confessed his love and devotion.

“Kevin,” her name a whisper on her lips, “how is this even possible? I’ve never felt this way before, with anyone. How can this be? I’m in love with you; I love you, too…” Her head screamed in cautious fury “NOT YET, NOT YET!” but her heart inevitably won the battle over reason. Christine leaned in and greedily took hold of Kevin’s lips and kissed him with reckless abandon as Kevin’s hands caressed her face, fingers roughly but gently pulling her hair, tilting her head back to expose her neck, his lips navigating the new territory he craved. Their passionate exchange was interrupted by the cold raindrops that began falling from the sky and a lazy flash of lightning illuminated the sky. A slow rumble of thunder echoing around them. Without a word, Kevin led Christine back to the apartment as the excitement and loudness of the party was starting to die down. He never left her side, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist in protectiveness with a tinge of possessiveness, his fingers seductively moving higher and higher up her ribcage, caressing her side. Desire oozing from their bodies.

As the last of disposable cups and empty beer bottles were cleaned up it was close to 1:00AM and both Kevin and Christine were exhausted but the desire between them was still smoldering and growing stronger. “Stay with me tonight, Christine… please stay,” his plea sending tingles on her skin. “Yes,” she whispered. The rain fell steadier and heavier with every passing minute as the thunder grew louder, matching the pounding of Christine’s pulse. 

His fingertips brushed lightly along her jawline, navigating and mapping their way down her neck, over her collar bone, treading outwards to meet the straps of her tank top. Achingly slow and seductively Kevin whispered, “I want to see you…” and impulsively Christine raised her arms granting access to her vulnerable body, permission to her absolute purity. “I’m scared, I’m nervous…” she confessed as Kevin continued exploring her body, her vulnerability, her new found womanhood. She was inexperienced, virginal; Kevin… was not. “Trust me, you can trust me. I will never hurt you. You’re safe with me. Let me in...” He was so self assured, so… it hurt. She wasn’t expecting it to hurt so much. But she kept Kevin’s words of reassurance within reach.  _ He won’t hurt me, he promised I can trust him. Trust him, let him take you. It will feel more enjoyable. Trust him, he promised never to hurt you.  _ It wasn’t how she thought it would be. Yes he was gentle but was it supposed to hurt that much the first time? She didn’t like it, she didn’t enjoy it; but Kevin, he rasped put her name in absolute ecstasy and adoration.  _ It’ll get better… next time it won’t hurt so much. I trust him, I trust him. I trust him…?  _ The battle between her heart and her head came to a climactic end, with Christine letting her heart claim victory over her rational head. Little did she know how this defeat would pave the way to a bigger war.

The next morning found Christine and Kevin snuggled together, the sunshine glowing from behind the blinds. Christine had been awake for almost an hour, staring blankly at the wall. She wasn’t feeling well; her head pounding with a dull pain and aching within your lower abdomen was uncomfortable. She slowly and carefully untangled herself from Kevin’s embrace and quickly got dressed. Kevin stirred and whispered a somewhat hungover good morning. “Shhhh, go back to sleep. I need to head back to the apartment and shower. I have a few things I have to take care of this morning,” she replied cautiously. 

“OK, call me later. I love you, Christine - you’re incredible and beautiful. I love you,” he retorted sleepily. He reached for Christine’s hand and placed kisses on her knuckles. Christine bent down and kissed his brow. And began the walk back to her apartment.

Upon her arrival back to her apartment, she found Danielle sitting at the kitchen table, hovering over a hot mug of coffee. “Well good morning… how was the walk of shame?” Danielle tried to smile and looked tired and almost disappointed at Christine.

“Walk of shame?” Christine was confused. “Is there more coffee? My head hurts.”

“For one, you didn’t come back last night; two, you’re still wearing the same clothes from last night and you didn’t want to leave Kevin’s apartment with me, so I can only assume ‘things’,” Danielle gently retorted with a slight chuckle. “And yes, there’s coffee… help yourself.”

“I feel ashamed,” Christine confessed sitting down. “It wasn’t…” and her words dropped off as Danielle gave her a concerned yet understanding look.

“It’s ok, Chris… I just hope you were safe and he didn’t pressure you. I’m guessing you’ve never done it before?” Christine shook her head. “It’ll be ok. Why are you back so early?” Danielle felt awkward. They didn’t know each other well enough to talk details or even have the openness to express concerns. 

“Well my head hurts and I need a shower and clean clothes. And… this won’t make sense but I just need some space. I feel this need to go to the music building and get some practice time in before classes start tomorrow.” Christine slowly sipped her coffee.  _ Should’ve made some earl grey lavender tea instead _ .

Christine quickly showered and threw on a pair of capris and tank top and grabbed her bag of sheet music and a sweatshirt that belonged to Gustav. It still smelled like her dad. It was so quiet on campus, not a soul stirred as she entered the music building and made her way through the hallways to her favorite rundown practice room she felt belonged to her. As she rounded the corner she heard the most spellbinding, beautiful baritone she had ever heard in her entire life. She found her feet were frozen in place refusing to move, to disturb the voice. She willed her feet to move and seek the source of this voice.  _ Who is he? _ With a breath of disbelief the voice was coming from the same long and dark hallway that housed her practice room. She came to a room from where this voice birthed and cautiously peaked through the window. In front of her was a tall, slender figure clothed in black, his back towards her as he sat in front of the piano. His voice rang through her soul and infiltrated her entire being. There was something so magical, so dark, so… sensual that Christine felt like she forgot how to breathe. Something inside her wanted to barge through the door and sing with him and another part of her wanted to sit and listen and be swallowed up by his voice. 

_ Sento nell'aria profumo di te  
_ _ Piccoli sogni vissuti con me  
_ _ Ora lo so  
_ _ Non voglio perderti  
_ _ Quella dolcezza così senza età  
_ _ La tua bellezza rivali non ha  
_ _ Il cuore mio vuole soltanto te _

_ Per te, per te, vivrò  
_ _ L'amore vincerà  
_ _ Con te, con te avrò  
_ _ Mille giorni di felicità  
_ _ Mille notti di serenità  
_ _ Farò quello che mi chiederai  
_ _ Andrò sempre dovunque tu andrai  
_ _ Darò tutto l'amore che ho per te _

“For you, for you…” she whispered.

But the more dominant feeling consuming Christine was almost like defeat. She hadn’t felt this defeated and lonely and lost… yes, that’s what she felt. Lost. She hadn’t felt this lost since Gustav’s funeral. Her brain scolded her.  _ He shouldn’t have let you walk back alone. He should’ve made you stay with him. You gave yourself to him and he didn’t honestly truly cherish you. You are a fool _ . She hated to acknowledge how much her heart deceived her but she loved Kevin. She loved him, right?  _ Yes I love him and he loves me. What happened last night is what you do when you are in love. Right. Right? _

This unknown man’s voice wove its way down the hallway, the notes and music calmly filling the room, enveloping her senses. Christine felt almost disoriented.

_ Dimmi che tu già il futuro lo sai  
_ _ Dimmi che questo non finirà mai  
_ _ Senza di te non voglio esistere _

_ Per te, per te, vivrò  
_ _ L'amore vincerà  
_ _ Con te, con te, avrò  
_ _ Mille giorni di felicità  
_ _ Mille notti di serenità  
_ _ Farò quello che mi chiederai  
_ _ Andrò sempre dovunque tu andrai  
_ _ Darò tutto l'amore che ho per te _

Defeated and lost she stumbled into her practice room just a few doors away from the voice. She didn’t bother turning on the light. Instead she crumbled to the floor and wept silently. The voice from down the hall was the only thing that was bringing her comfort, albeit temporarily. 

_ Non devo dirtelo  
_ _ Ormai già lo sai  
_ _ Che morirei senza di te _

_ Per te, per te, vivrò  
_ _ L'amore vincerà  
_ _ Con te, con te, farò  
_ __ Tutto quello che mi chiederai  
_ Andrò sempre dovunque tu andrai  
_ __ Darò tutto l'amore che ho per te

“Was it all a lie? Is it all a lie?”


	6. Deception and Lies, Part 2

**Chapter 6: Deception and Lies (Part 2)**

The last stanza and words of his song came to a quiet close, but there was a strange accompanying sound.  _ Crying? _ Erik didn’t understand who could possibly be in the practice room this early on a Sunday morning. He carefully stepped out into the hallway and heard quiet sniffles and sighs coming from a darkened practice room near his. There was only one other person who ever used any of the rundown practice rooms in this wing of the music building.  _ There’s no way that can be her _ . A sliver of light peered through the door’s window pane and Erik saw, sitting on the floor with her head resting against the wall.  _ My angel _ . His heart leapt to his throat in both elation and heartbreak.  _ Why do you weep? _

“Christine? Chris? Are you here?” he heard a man’s voice echoing from the adjacent hallway as panic set it upon being discovered. Erik quickly retreated back into his practice room and turned off the light.

“I’m in here…” a meek voice came from the other room. Erik peered out from behind the door to see a rather attractive younger man walk passed and enter the room where his angel remained.

“Chris, what’s the matter? I went to your apartment and Danielle said you might be here. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Erik was overwrought by guilt as his continued eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I wasn’t prepared for that, Kevin…”

“I’m sorry, Chris… it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that. I’m making it up to you. Please, let me take out, just you and me, no one else. I’m so sorry, I love you. You know that, right? I love you, Chris,” Kevin’s voice pleaded and begged for forgiveness. 

Erik felt his heart break. “I love you, too, Kevin. There’s nothing to be sorry for; I guess I need to get out of my own head sometimes.” She was with another; she was never going to be his. Their voices grew a little louder and closer as the pair began heading towards the exit. Erik slumped down in front of the piano and began playing and singing in a broken voice but couldn’t bring himself to even get through the first few lines…

_ Tell me his name   
_ _ I want to know   
_ _ The way he looks   
_ _ And where you go   
_ _ I need to see his face   
_ _ I need to understand   
_ __ Why you and I came to an end

Christine turned her head slightly over her shoulder at the sound of his voice, calling out to her as tears streaked her face once more, feeling somehow that she had just inexplicably broke someone’s heart.

*

Erik sat by the piano, staring blankly at his phone. He couldn’t believe she had appeared again, but she was so very different than the last time he had encountered her before. His jealousy and rage bubbled furiously inside. Should he call Raoul for advice? Should he simply forget what he had overheard? Should he even bother trying to find the courage to speak to her the next time he would ever hear her again? Shaking his head, he reluctantly sent a text message to Meg; perhaps a woman’s perspective would be better than what Raoul could offer?

_ Meg, I need your help. I can’t possibly ask Raoul for this… I saw her again just now. And I can’t… I don’t know what to do. _

_ Of course! Meet you at Iron Hill for brunch in 10 mins? Luv ya! Xoxo _

He walked the lonely walk towards Iron Hill. The air outside had changed drastically from the night before - it was hot, humid, stifling… the air was heavy and oppressive. “Fitting, really,” Erik mused aloud to himself. “Did you honestly think you’d have the courage to talk to her if you ever saw her again? You fool!” He growled and shoved his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace and pulled his knit newsboy hat farther down his face to conceal his mask all the while whispering, “Christine… Christine… Christine.”

An hour later found Erik and Meg sitting quietly across from each other with Erik picking through his scrambled eggs. “Well love, you’ve worked your way into a pickle, but I think there’s a simple solution,” Meg strategically pointed out. “I really think it might work, but only if you get out of your own head and jump in feet first and do it.”

“I don’t know, Meg - it sounds too risky, like I’d be inappropriately exposing myself in some way.”

Meg practically choked on her coffee. “Errrriiiikkkk! You’re not going to pull out your manhood and flash it to her, come on! You’ll be writing a simple note or a sonnet or a poem on a sticky note and putting it across a few keys on the piano. You won’t be signing your name or giving away any personal details. Just a simple, lighthearted, and sweet (romantic) missive in your own handwriting. That’s all.”

Deadpan, Erik responded, “I find you tiresome, Meg Giry” and he threw his discarded straw wrapper into her mop of blonde curls. “I also find Shakespeare and Byron and Keats unamusing and overused. UGH, this is ludicrous! Absolute lunacy, Meg! She is claimed by another and someone so much more deserving than me. You should have seen how handsome the boy was… I can’t compete.”

“Now wait just one minute!” Meg spat. This was yet another one of Erik’s moments she and Raoul had observed over and over again. “Doesn’t matter what the guy looks like; he could be the biggest douchebag on the planet!”

“I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable… and I don’t want to hurt her… I simply want what’s best for her,” Erik grew sorrowful. 

“Erik, no offense, but from what you told me from the conversation you overheard, it sounds like she might already be hurting and by the very hands of the very guy who says he loves her. Perhaps something from you will provide even a little comfort or maybe even some hope. Just from the sounds of that guy, my gut says he’s bad news and I wasn’t even there.” Meg grew weary. Something about the whole interaction, by how Erik described it, wasn’t sitting well with her. Something wasn’t right and the feeling of an impending storm was ominous.

The next half hour went by when Erik and Meg said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Erik walked through the tree-lined cobblestone street to the townhouse he rented off campus. It was a quaint street, quiet and private. The rental property belonged to the previous Dean of Music, Dr. Montgomery Reyer, now retired but still taught Music 101 for college freshman. Dr. Reyer and Erik never saw eye-to-eye in their critiques of classical music, but Dr. Reyer always appreciated a fresh perspective as “misguided and too biased, my dear boy!” as Erik was. Still, when Dr. Reyer had originally agreed to Erik’s customized doctorate program before his retirement, he promised Erik his full support even after his retirement. Dr. Reyer had decided to trust Erik enough to allow him to rent out his home during his much needed three years worth of vacation and travel.

The oppressive morning humidity finally gave way to a hot but beautiful August afternoon. Erik sat on the wrap-around porch overlooking the street, and despite the heat he sipped contemplatively a mug of his favorite earl grey tea. With his fountain pen in one hand and the mug of tea in the other, a sketchbook blankly stared up at him from his lap. Words were failing him, but his music wasn’t.  _ Well you can’t write music in a letter _ . The thought stopped him.  _ Yes, yes you can. _ A melody he had been toying with in the evenings on the piano came to mind. There was no solid structure to it yet and even from the beginning, he wasn’t sure what it would be: an instrumental solo, an accompaniment, an aria? There was a protective instinct building within him that made him tense and feel almost nauseous. He didn’t get a good feeling when  _ that boy _ spoke and how blatantly condescending he was.  _ I don’t like him at all. I wonder what her father would say if he knew his daughter was dating such a character. I want to keep her safe, but how… without interfering, without seeming like I’m completely unhinged and upset her even more. _ And like that, the words hit him like a bolt of lightning. Gently placing his mug on the porch by his chair, Erik began writing. He stumbled to find the words, but figured even if just two stanzas could tell the story, it was at least a start.

* * *

And what seemed like a blink of an eye, the fall semester was in full swing. The campus buzzed and sounded of eager freshmen and burnt out seniors, motivated graduate students, and the ferocious quietness of the doctoral hopefuls. There was one ferocity that resounded the most within the sleepy town of Western Cypress. The ferocity was Erik. He argued exasperatedly with Dr. Marrenesco on the sequencing of his symphony.

“No Erik, you cannot simply insert random arias for baritone voice and later with alto… it makes no sense and the construction of a symphony does not adhere to what you are doing. Have I taught you NOTHING all these years? Did Dr. Reyer lay his reputation on the line for you so blatantly disrespect the rules of composition?”

“It DOES make sense, and it WILL make sense! Just let me be to compose, for Christ’s sake!! To hell with conventions! The world needs something new, something different… to hell with your rules!”

“Erik, one cannot simply toss aside the geniuses of times passed, my boy! Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Liszt - they all followed conventions and structures.”

“Liszt was unconventional, Nikolai… and so underappreciated during his time! Progress ahead of his time.”

This was getting them nowhere...

Most of the arguments were structured this way - a clashing of wills, of genius, iced with frustration. The topping, for Erik, was always the same added flavors: heartbreak and love. He was hitting the proverbial creative roadblock, where his ego got in the way of his genius. Yes he was gifted and his musicianship was one not seen or heard but his frustrations regarding the suppression of true creativity within the bounds of conventionalism and tradition made for a rather bumpy journey. It had also been almost a month since he heard Christine’s voice. He couldn’t understand it and how she could come and disappear within a breath before even granting him one note, one euphoric sound from the throat of an angel.

It wasn’t until the weekend before classes resumed after this brief Thanksgiving holiday that the two souls would once again meet on such separate paths but unwittingly leading in the same direction.

Thanksgiving was uneventful and as always, Erik spent the holiday with Meg and Raoul at Meg’s parents home about two hours from university. It was tradition to spend Thanksgiving evening and the following night at the Giry’s, and Meg and Raoul would head out in the evening of black Friday to head to Raoul’s for the remainder of the Thanksgiving festivities. 

“Erik, you are welcome to stay another night even though Meg and Raoul are heading out for their trip to his parents,” Mrs. Giry offered. “No point in going back to your place all alone, dear boy.” The plea was always the same every year. Erik knew who Meg got her genuine sweetness from.

“Mama Giry, you have always been so incredibly kind to bestow your hospitality, but I’m afraid I must return home this evening. This infuriating and riotous symphony will not compose itself,” Erik chuckled as Mr. Giry finally caught the pun. “Safe travels to you both, and please inform me of your safe return to Western Cypress this weekend, will you?” Erik leaned in for a brief hug to Meg and extended a handshake to Raoul. “My sincerest appreciation for your hospitality. My love to you all.” With the last goodbye, Erik shut the door behind him and breathed in the rain-soaked air, avoiding with his apt footwork the half-frozen puddles littering the pathway to his car.

The drive was long and lonely. The only thought that kept him company was Christine.

By the time Erik maneuvered down the tree-lined street to his house, the rain had picked up a very steady rhythm and the hour was late. Erik pulled his hood over his head to make the slippery trek from the brick-laid sidewalks to the rather iced over steps to the house. He took out his keys to unlock the door when movement from the sidewalk below made him glance over his shoulder. A rather small figure was walking furiously fast, a dark hooded sweatshirt covering, from what he could decipher, a head full of mahogany brown curls. The sound of this petite figure’s feet pattering against the wet bricks was quickly overtaken by numerous sniffles and huffs.  _ It’s late, no one should be out walking in this wickedly wet and cold mess _ . Not thinking much of it, Erik stepped back inside to the quiet and stillness of the living room. His lonely violin stared at him pleadingly, begging to be played; Erik decided to head to the music building to decompress. Usually in the stillness and lifeless late hours of the evening served as Erik’s time to put his stresses of composing aside and actually play the piano and violin for just pure satisfaction and fulfillment.

As Erik opened the doors to the hallway leading to the practice rooms, he found himself again shaken to his core. His angel had returned again. He thought himself hallucinating; how could she just come and go like this? She must be an ethereal being, completely not of this world.  _ Don’t blow it… play it _ . His mind scolded him.  _ Speak to her the only way both your souls will understand _ . He quietly entered the practice room located only a few doors down from where Christine housed her requiem. Her voice was on the surface sad, but the more Erik listened, closing his eyes to find the story she wanted to scream out, he heard it. It was an emotion he himself had learned to embrace and welcome. Anger. “My eyes shall no more welcome sleep…” Her voice rang out, pure, crystalline. How could her usually dark alto voice ring at the range of soprano? What a gift from the gods, this angel’s voice. Erik heard her struggling to play the accompanying piano and violin parts while attempting to sing.  _ Accompany her… make her sing with you! _ Every so quickly Erik raised his violin to his chin and immediately came in on F major as her voice rang out. Erik had never heard anything like this in his life. Such a heartbreaking lament seething with anger and resentment.

Oh how their countering melodies entwined in a fine dance. Erik felt a strange eroticism in his gut as his violin strings and harmonizations drew out of his angel the darkness, the torment, the anger, making her voice pour out from her aching throat, reaching for notes in a range of a soprano. “Sing for me, my angel of music, sing for me,” he softly growled as he heard Christine’s voice stamp out the syllables, “He's gone, he's gone, his loss deplore; And I shall never see him more.” The last note hung in the air of the vacant halls as her voice and his strings joined as one. In the absolute stillness of the night, he heard her gasp for breath, no doubt falling back to this earthly plain.

“Again… sing for me, my angel,” Erik raised his bow to his violin once more and initiated the aria from the beginning. “Sing!” He voice was an erotic growl that drew Christine’s voice out once more, the melody and harmony echoing each other, as their music and their souls began their delicately entwined yet darkened caress.


	7. Deception and Lies (Part 3)

**Chapter 7: Deception and Lies (Part 3)**

**_October - “I’m not asking anything of you except just you. It’s not that you’re being unreasonable; I just think you’re acting rather selfishly.”_ **

Christine fell into a successful routine and groove quickly within a few short weeks. Where she flourished the most was surprisingly with her Russian language classes. It was a full immersion program, meeting three hours a day Monday through Friday. Within a month, everyone was practically fluent and Christine adored her professors and her cohort of fellow Russian language geeks. For the first time since her early years of high school, Christine felt like she belonged. There were still times, however, that the feeling of crushing loneliness followed her like a shadow. And again the tinge of something being off followed her like the Grim Reaper, it was unnerving, uncomfortable, intangible. Kevin was a doting boyfriend, wanting to be attentive, loving, supportive… protective. Out of the auspices of concern, Christine texted Kevin frequently throughout the day, especially when classes were over, or when she would be going to the library to study, or heading to the music building to practice, or going grocery shopping, or having a study group with her Russian language cohort, or going to bed when not spending the night with him.

By the end of October, Christine truly felt things were great. She was thriving academically, really flying high and felt things with Kevin were good too. Christine made the decision to enroll in for the summer sessions in order to get ahead of her coursework and catch up after Gustav’s death. The conversation with Kevin didn’t go well. “So you didn’t want to talk to me about this? What if I wanted to make plans with you? My parents were planning a great vacation and I wanted to bring you along. Why wouldn’t you consider me, consider us, in any of your decisions?” 

Christine was speechless. “Kevin, you know I’ve lost over a year’s worth of classes after my dad died; I don’t think this means that I’m being unreasonable.” 

Kevin slammed his laptop shut. Christine’s jumped at the sudden escalation and felt herself begin to cower, her shoulders slouching forward. Her eyes stared at the floor. “That’s besides the point, Chris. You haven’t given me the time of day since the semester started. We’re coming up on three months together and all I want to do is be with you. We haven’t even been together for at least three weeks. What’s going on? Do you still want to be with me? I just don’t understand how you can’t make us a priority like you do with your classes. I’m not asking anything of you except just you, but I feel like I’m putting in all the effort and you’re idolly drifting by. It’s not that you’re being unreasonable; I just think you’re acting rather selfishly. You go home every weekend to spend time with Nadir, but you never want to stay here with me. It’s not fair, Chris, and I don’t appreciate being put in last place. That’s not what serious couples do. You know I love you, right?” Kevin came to kneel before her taking her hands. “You know I want nothing more than to have you, hmm?” Christine barely nodded as Kevin gently lifted her chin to have her eyes to meet with longing gaze. “Trust me, Chris. Know that this is real; that I’m real. School and classes and friends are temporary, but me, Christine… ME, I’m here, with you forever. Remember, I’ve loved you since the day you came into the library. I’m forever, and we can be forever, too.” He captured her lips, and her eyes slid close, shiny tears glistening down her face. 

“I should have talked to you about summer classes. I just assumed summer would be uneventful. I know you love and I do trust you. I guess I’m just not a good communicator - something to work on.” And Kevin kissed her again, this time with more urgency, more strength. Christine felt her body tense. Their two bodies joined as one only a few times since that first night in August. During the dance of their bodies and breathing, Christine tried to convince and coax her body to relax into submission, but even still it was painful and she was always left not just physically unfulfilled but mentally and emotionally, she was completely spent. And tonight would be no different.

* * *

**_November - Marcus’s jovial face fell into a serious and uneasy expression. His silence was deafening; he grew so quiet and began to fidget awkwardly in his seat, glancing at the clock in almost a plea for an escape from the conversation. “Oh, um, yeah, I know Kevin,” Marcus responded extremely cautiously. “Everyone knows Kevin.” This last statement was almost a whisper, but Christine caught the wariness in Marcus’s voice._ **

November made a rather flamboyant entrance and tumbled the campus into a very swift start to what would be a painfully cold and icy winter. The end of the first full week of November had welcomed wind chills, dipping temperatures into the teens and plenty of sleet and freezing rain. The campus looked glassy, like a surreal disenchanted land that would easily break and crash down in a beautifully dangerous crystal and glass menagerie. Christine was walking towards the student union building to seek a brief refuge from the brutal cold wind before making the trek to her apartment when she bumped into the sweet, innocent face from years ago. “Christine?!” the happy and jovial voice rang out like a bell across the street.

“Oh my God, MARCUS!!! Oh my God, what on earth are you doing here?” Christine felt her heart leap with joy and began crying the happiest of tears as Marcus swooped her up and whirled her around in his arms, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I can’t believe it’s you! I haven’t seen you in, what, nearly three years now?” She bear-hugged Marcus again.

“You haven’t changed a bit, still so short, still scowling at the world through those almond eyes, and still giver of the best hugs in all of Pennsylvania! Damn it is so good to see you! What is going on? How are you? LIFE CHAT, NOW! Do you have time to grab some hot tea?” Marcus looped Christine’s arm around him as they walked to the student union building.

“Of course, I always have time for you! I just finished my last class and was headed back to south campus for the afternoon. My treat, ok?” She pulled out her wallet as they reached the Starbucks and ordered her favorite lavender infused earl grey with a splash of cream. “Your regular from our band days, Marcus - hazelnut hot chocolate with whipped cream?” Marcus rested his towering self against Christine while placing his chin on top of her head and nodded in confirmation

It was like old times again. Marcus was only two years younger than Christine, and they became fast friends during their adolescent years. Marcus took piano lessons from Gustav and of course, joined the high school’s marching band and choir upon starting his freshman year. Marcus began regaling Christine of what the rest of high school was like after her class graduated, that the high school hired a new band director who only lasted two years, that he was a music major with a minor in performance, and had recently started dating Patrick, who was captain of Western Cypress University’s Golden Dragons color guard.

“Here I am blabbing and chittering on and on about me. You, Christine, what have you been doing and where are you going? How’s your dad?” Christine’s smile and radiance quickly faded, much like the sunlight which was now being masked by dark clouds.

“Dad passed away almost two years ago. I was still at Haven Lake when he told me the cancer was back, but it was stage four. He died just three months after the diagnosis. So after the funeral, I didn’t bother going back to school and I lived with Nadir for a while while we were settling all the legal stuff and estate items.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry Chrissie, I didn’t know. I remember how close you two were. How’s Nadir?”

“Oh, you know, he’s getting older, so I spend the weekends with him to keep him company. We’re planning a small Thanksgiving dinner at his apartment in the city with his law firm partner and a few interns he hired who aren’t returning home for the holidays, so it’ll be good to spend it with them. What about you?”

“Patrick and I are heading down to Miami to visit his parents and so I can work on my fabulous tan.”

“That’s really great, Marcus; you sound really happy,” Christine quietly responded, swirling the remaining last bit of her tea.

“What about you, love? Anyone special man vying for your love and devotion and your voice?” Marcus jabbed, but knew what bewitchment Christine’s voice held to those who she permitted to listen.

“Actually, there is. We met just a week before the semester started, long story, but it was an instantaneous connection and we’ve been together for almost three months. It’s still new and I’m still trying to figure it out, but it’s intense to say the least,” Christine confessed.

“Ok, now you gotta spill the details, Chrissie. What’s his name?”

“Kevin. Kevin Trickman, do you know him? He’s a music minor and part of the fraternity, so I’m sure you’ve probably crossed paths at some point.”

Marcus’s jovial face fell into a serious and uneasy expression. His silence was deafening; he grew so quiet and began to fidget awkwardly in his seat, glancing at the clock in almost a plea for an escape from the conversation. “Oh, um, yeah, I know Kevin,” Marcus responded extremely cautiously. “Everyone knows Kevin.” This last statement was almost a whisper, but Christine caught the wariness in Marcus’s voice. 

“Why do you say it that way, Marcus? Is there… is there something I should know?” Christine felt her stomach form rock hard knots in her gut. Marcus took a long, steadying breath.

“It’s not my place to say anything. I don’t know him personally, I’ve only had like one or two classes with him and had chorus with him last spring semester.”

“Marcus, what’s that supposed to even mean?”

“Look, Kevin’s nice and everything, it’s just that I heard things. But it could all just be hearsay and not much truth to it. You know the drama from our marching band days in high school; it’s still the same at the college level - these music majors LOVE drama, so I don’t know if it’s my place to say anything.”

“No offense, but you opened the can of worms. Spill it.”

“Again, I can’t back any of this up and I don’t know if it’s even true. Last year, Kevin dated this girl named Annie, for a little over a year. She went to a different college, but they were together a good while, I think. From what I heard, they had a pretty big falling out and she broke up with him. From what I heard, Kevin had a really hard time with the break up and was hounding Annie like crazy, things kinda got ugly and out of control until Kevin finally came to terms with everything. Like I said, Chrissie, I don’t know what an ounce of truth there is to this, but just be careful, ok?”

Christine sat there feeling stunned, unable to process this rather dark side to Kevin she didn’t see, or possibly didn’t want to acknowledge existed. Before she could even retort with questions, Marcus quickly jumped up from his chair and grabbed his coat and bag.

“Look, I gotta run. I have class in 10 minutes, but it was really good to see you. Here’s my cell, shoot me a text message. It was really good seeing you, Christine. I’ll see you around campus, I’m sure.” Marcus bent down for a quick hug and rushed out of the student union building, leaving a fully baffled Christine alone as an early round of snowflakes began their dance from the heavens to the hardened earth below.

She never did hear from Marcus again after this chance meeting.

* * *

**_November, the week before Thanksgiving break: “You’re right, Chris, you didn’t think. If you wanted to know, you should’ve just asked yourself rather than having a drama queen like Marcus tell you untrue gossip.”_ **

The conversation with Marcus exasperated the overwhelming feeling that the Grim Reaper was constantly lurking in the shadows. Christine was left confused, wary, and exhausted. It wasn’t until she found the courage to mention her conversation with Marcus to Kevin when things headed into darkened and uncharted territory. 

Christine got out of her Monday night class a little before 10:00PM and was absolutely exhausted. The temperatures plummeted even colder, and before she reached the shuttle bus stop to take her back to her apartment on south campus, her toes and face were half frozen. She pulled out her phone. 

_ Hi love, just got out of class. Why is it so cold?! Mind if I come over for a little bit and thaw out? _

_ Of course! Just spend the night - I’ll drive you back to your apartment tomorrow morning. See you soon. I love you. _

Within a few minutes Christine arrived at Kevin’s apartment half frozen. “Oh hon, you’re achingly cold. Get in here. I have an extra pair of flannel pajama pants and my sweatshirt on the bed for you to change into. I’ll make you some coffee to warm up.” Kevin placed a kiss on the tip of Christine’s red nose as he closed and locked the door behind her.

“Hey Kevin,” Christine quietly started as she walked out of Kevin’s room while pulling on the hoodie, “can I ask you something?” Kevin glanced up from his laptop and nodded. Hesitantly, Christine began. “So, I ran into a former high school friend of mine yesterday after class. Do you know Marcus Phillips?”

“Oh, yeah I know Marcus. Why do you ask?” His eyes grew hard and held her expression.

“No reason, really. We were catching up on life yesterday and I mentioned you and I were dating. And we started chatting about his boyfriend, Patrick, and he mentioned he had met your previous girlfriend, Annie, and it was n-...”

“Wait, he talked to you about Anne?” Kevin interrupted. “He has no clue what that girl did to me to even bring her up. It’s no one’s business, let alone HIS, of all people…” slamming shut his laptop.

“It was nothing bad, but I thought…”

“What, Christine, you thought WHAT exactly? Is there something you’re curious about? Just so you know, Marcus is a little gossip and everyone knows it. I wouldn’t trust everything that comes out of his mouth.”

“It was an innocent conversation. I didn’t think-”

“You’re right, Chris, you didn’t think. If you wanted to know, you should’ve just asked yourself rather than having a drama queen like Marcus tell you untrue gossip.” Wow, that was uncalled for; but how well did Christine know Marcus anyway? A lot has changed since high school. Hell, he didn’t even know her dad died, so how close were they really? It had been almost four years, and people change, and obviously Marcus had, since Christine last knew he was dating a really sweet girl during high school. Yes, a lot HAD changed.  _ Have I changed? _

“I’m only going to talk about this tonight, and then we’re dropping it for good. Bottom line: Annie cheated on me with a fellow fraternity brother at her college. I knew him, so it made things even worse. She broke my heart, ripped it out of my chest and stomped all over me. We were going to get engaged, but she ruined everything by cheating on me. She made a fool of me, and she spread lies about me to our mutual friends and I lost a lot of friendships because of her and her manipulations. She was cruel and selfish and wasn’t a good person. She tricked me from the day we met, she was like a siren luring me into her trap. I fell for her charm and sweet disposition, but it was all a lie.” Kevin was in a fine rage, but began buckling under the weight of his supposed deceptions. “There, you happy? Now you know. Now you know what she did to me; it was her fault things fell apart. I was just a pawn for her to get what she really wanted.”

“Kevin, I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I wish you would have been open and honest with me about this. You should’ve told me this happened. I’m sorry.”

“Look, just drop it. It was last year and I’m here with you now. I’m trusting you with my heart, Christine. Don’t be like Annie. Respect me, love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

“I’m sorry. I do respect you; I do love you, Kevin.”

“Christine, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want nothing more than to be with you. I want to take us to the next step as a mature couple. Come home with me for Thanksgiving. Meet my family. I know you wanted and planned Thanksgiving with Nadir, but I really need you with me this year. I want to have you part of my life that I didn’t share with Annie until it was almost over. I don’t want to make that mistake again. My parents will love you, and my family will love you. We’ll have so much fun. Please, come home with me. Heck, why don’t you follow me to my house and then you can come back later and have another dinner with Nadir. What do you say?”

* * *

**_“Chrissie, we were planning Thanksgiving together since October. I’m sad you changed your plans and go home with Kevin instead, but I understand. Meeting the parents is an important milestone in your relationship. Have a safe trip, and I love you, kid.”_ **

It wasn’t until Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving that Christine called Nadir. 

“Hey kiddo! It’s so great to hear from you, it’s been way too long since I’ve heard from you. I’m sure classes are keeping you busy. How’s everything going?” Nadir was so happy, and his stress and concerns about Christine’s budding relationship temporarily placated, to finally hear from her. The beginning weeks into the semester, Christine texted often during the week and he saw her every weekend. But as the semester aged on and her coursework grew more cumbersome, her check ins and update calls, and her weekend visits, dwindled substantially. He knew her classes were difficult, and he knew she bit off a little more than she could chew. Christine stressed about getting caught up from her hiatus from school after Gustav’s death. Nadir knew that part of her was really driven to succeed, but the other, more dominant part, was the pressure she put on herself to make sure Gustav would have been proud of her accomplishments. Nadir pulled himself out of his thoughts when Christine’s pitch perfect voice chimed in like a bell.

“I’m sorry, Nadir. And oh, I’ve missed you terribly. You must think I’m a horrible goddaughter for not calling or texting you for the past three weeks. I’m really sorry.”  _ Why was she apologizing so profusely? This isn’t like her at all. _

“Gracious heavens, kid, stop apologizing. It’s fine - you’re busy and probably drowning in homework and studying, and papers! Especially trying to keep afloat and on top of that Russian language stuff. How’s that going?”

“Oh ok, sorry. I mean, yeah, classes are going fine. Russian is really hard but Dr. Yuryevna is really fantastic, so is her husband Dr. Payne. They’ve had the whole class over to their house a bunch of times for dinners and cultural events and stuff with the local Russian community. It’s been fascinating.”

“What about your music classes, how are you doing with those?” Christine fell quiet and Nadir felt a change in her demeanor even over the phone.

“I don’t like it one bit. I’m not enjoying the classes at all. It’s honestly not what I expected. Uncle Nadir, do you think Dad would be heartbroken if I dropped the music minor? I just don’t fit in with the others. I’m not  _ feeling _ it, if that even makes sense. Like, there’s just nothing there for me in the curriculum or the music they want me to play. I feel nothing and I don’t think there’s a muse I can find here.”

“I’m no musician, Christine, but what I do know is that you have to feel it, just like you do now with your Russian classes. Don’t worry about Gus; he’s already proud of you, kid.”

“I really miss him,” Christine barely choked out.  _ And I’m about to break Nadir’s heart. _

“Me too, Chrissie; me too. So, I guess you’re calling about Thanksgiving. All the guys are showing up around 4:00PM to chill out and watch the game. When do you think you’ll make it here by? Are you bringing Kevin?” Nadir felt himself cringe just mentioning that little shit’s proper name.

“Um, actually, that’s just it, Uncle Nadir. Kevin invited me to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving. This is a big deal, meeting his family for the first time. I’ll be meeting his uncles and aunts and cousins, too.”  _ This isn’t right; but Kevin really wants you to meet his family. This is what serious couples do… and adding Kevin into my life means more family for me and Nadir. _ Great rationalization.

The line went quiet, and Nadir felt for the first time since Gus’s funeral that his heart was ripped from his chest. “Uncle Nadir, are you still there?”

“Chrissie, we were planning Thanksgiving together since October. I’m sad you changed your plans and go home with Kevin instead, but I understand. Meeting the parents is an important milestone in your relationship.” He barely choked out his next words. “Have a safe trip, and I love you, kid.”  _ Gus, I’m sorry; I have failed you, and I have failed her. _

“I love you, Na-...”  _ Click _ . The line went dead.  _ He hung up? He hung up. What the hell? _ Christine wasn’t sure who she was more upset with: Nadir or herself. Nevermind the true person who was responsible for completing unraveling her entire life: Kevin Trickman.

* * *

**_Thanksgiving Day - “Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again, do you understand me?” Christine watched in horror as Kevin’s uncle belittled his aunt in front of the entire family. What made her more sick was the amused chuckle coming from Kevin’s mouth._ **

Thanksgiving with Kevin was, well, interesting. Christine couldn’t quite place the oddity on just one single event or person; it was a hodgepodge of unhealthy interactions that had Christine reeling and drowning in discomfort and dread. The feeling in the pit of her stomach screamed “GET OUT. GET OUT NOW. Before it’s too late, get out.” She felt it even more after dinner with Kevin’s family.

Dinner itself went fine. The food was great and Christine really hit it off with Mrs. Trickman. She was a sweet, overly plump woman who took Christine under her motherly wing, especially in the kitchen. She guided Christine on the proper way to stuff the turkey and to tie the appendages properly so that it wouldn’t fall apart the more tender the meat became. And her sweet comments engulfed Christine in warmth and love. Christine never really remembered what it was like to have a mother around since Marie Clare passed away when Christine was still so very young. Christine didn’t want to lose this feeling. “Oh dear girl, it is so nice to have you here with us. You are an angel, and Kevin says you sing like one, too! Maybe you can treat us to a song?” Mrs. Trickman constantly flowered Christine with sweet compliments and invitations to return for Christmas.

It wasn’t until after dinner that things started going downhill very fast. Everyone was recovering in the living room and dining room from their perspective turkey hangovers and watching the football game on TV. Christine sat on the living room floor wrapped in a fleece blanket, snuggling against Kevin. His uncle was speaking rather animated but quietly to his aunt across the room. Christine only heard snippets of the conversation, but it sent a chill down her spine. His aunt, Sarah, was standing against the wall, arms crossed, staring at the ground. She was dressed in scrubs since she was on-call at the local hospital and apparently got called to go in. Christine didn’t quite hear what started the heated exchange, but suddenly heard his Uncle Craig raise his voice. “Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again, do you understand me?” Sarah shrunk down in belittlement. “I didn’t mean to say that; I’m so sorry, Craig. Please, I’m sorry; what I said was stupid.” Craig raised Sarah’s chin, much like Kevin had done a few times, and retorted, “Good, keep it that way. Now you better get to work. We’ll talk about this more when you get home.” Sarah glanced nervously at Christine and locked eyes with her briefly before shrinking out the front door without so much as a “goodbye, nice to meet you.”

Christine moved to sit up when she heard the vibrations coming from Kevin’s chest, followed by the movement of what felt like his shoulders shaking with laughter. She turned in confusion at Kevin, to follow his gaze to his uncle, both men snickering and chuckling at the events of what unfolded before Christine. “She’ll figure it out one of these days,” Craig quietly snickered at Kevin’s side, hoping Christine would overhear, she wasn’t sure. But what chilled her the most was Kevin’s response. “One day at a time, slow and steady.”  _ What the hell is that supposed to mean? _

The rest of the evening went on uneventfully but Christine was haunted by the deer-in-headlights look of panic on Sarah’s face after the confrontation with Craig and the response of Kevin to the entire situation. Christine breathed a sigh of relief when Friday morning rolled around. She couldn’t wait to get out of the Trickman house and have some alone time. There was a part of her that wanted to call Nadir, beg for his forgiveness and convince her to end things with Kevin.  _ But he was so mad at me when I canceled Thanksgiving with him. He won’t want to hear from me for a while _ . But no, she didn’t call; she didn’t ask for help. How could she? Kevin was everywhere.

By late afternoon, Christine got in her car to drive back towards Western Cypress under the falsehood of “Oh no, I forgot I have a doctor’s appointment on Saturday morning in the city!” just so Kevin wouldn’t invite himself to follow Christine back. “I love you Christine. Text me when you’re back safely. Say hello to Nadir for me,” Kevin quipped ratherly smugly. Her skin was crawling.

The long drive back to Western Cypress from Kevin’s was refreshing and needed. Christine blasted Rachmaninoff off her CD player, trying to blink back the tears she didn’t realize were fighting their way to the forefront of her emotional roller coaster. Night fell quickly and the rain poured down in a steady, cold rhythm on the windshield. It was a little after 6:00PM when Christine finally made it to her apartment. Once inside, she took a scalding hot shower to melt and wash away the ruined Thanksgiving holiday and immediately crashed into her bed. She was awoken a few hours later around 11:00PM with her phone chiming with notifications.

_ Hey, did you make it back ok? _

_ Christine, where are you? Did you get home ok? _

_ Christine, call me. I’m worried. _

_ Christine, call me! Where are you? Answer your phone!!! _

Seven text messages, eleven missed calls, and three voicemails. All from Kevin.  _ Shit, he’s gonna kill me _ . She decided with the late hour to just text.

_ Hi, yeah, sorry, I made it back around 6. I was so tired and not feeling well and I fell asleep as soon as I got home. You ok? _

Immediately her phone rang. 

“What the FUCK, Christine?! You had me worried sick. Why didn’t you call me as soon as you got home? It’s been sleeting and freezing rain for hours and it’s so icy. I was worried. You should have called me! Damn it, Chris, don’t ever do this again.”

“I-I’m sorry Kevin. I should’ve called. I was exhausted when I got back and I’m not feeling well and just crashed. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Fuck, Chris. I’m just glad you’re ok. I’m leaving tomorrow morning first thing. I’ll come by, ok. I love you. Feel better.”

“I’m sorry; drive safe…”  _ Click _ . Wait, did he just hang up on her? Was he really that mad and upset?  _ What the hell did I do wrong? Why is he mad? Shit, it’s my fault. He’ll be pissed when he gets here tomorrow _ . She worked herself up into an absolute panic. She paced around her apartment, wanting to be alone but afraid of being alone with herself. She was collapsing inward, screaming furiously in her brain how ridiculous her life was. And there, in the midst of her chaos, a quiet, gentle voice from within pulled her slowly out.  _ It’s ok, sweetie. Go find your release. Go, I’ll be there with you, my angel of music _ . “Oh Dad, why aren’t you here!” Christine choked out into the void of her empty apartment. “Music, music… dad.” And without second guessing herself, Christine grabbed her music books and stuffed them into her bag to head back to campus and into her favorite practice room.

The sidewalks were slippery with rain and freezing rain falling from the cold Black Friday night sky. It was not as bitterly, painfully cold as it had been that week, but it was a bone chilling wet cold that made her quicken her footsteps, all the while sniffling and huffing through the cold. She passed a row of darkened homes, and hearing the jingle of keys from someone no doubt coming home from a better Thanksgiving than hers. She finally made her way to the music building and was relieved to find the doors to the practice rooms wing unlocked and entered. It was pleasantly quiet and still and serene. Her sneakers squeaked along the freshly waxed floors as she made her way down the hallway to her favorite rundown practice room.

Once inside, Christine shed her rain-soaked sweatshirt and spread out the sheet music to Henry Purcell’s “O Let Me Weep” from his “The Fairy Queen.” She wasn’t a soprano by any means but this, this lament was another one of her father’s favorites. “Now Chrissie, try reaching, open your throat and let this strain seep in. Stand up straight and breathe, let it flow.” She remembered his voice instructing her the first time she attempted the lament. “The beautiful thing about this is that it’s not just about the loss of a lover, but it can be told with anger if sung in the way I’m about to teach you,” Gustav would mention.

“But Dad, why anger? It’s a lover’s lament; why would you want to replace love with anger?” Christine would question, feeling lost and confused.

“Well, Christine, anger sometimes speaks louder than love in certain circumstances. When I first had your mom listen to this, it was shortly after I had come home from Vietnam. She heard the anger because of what I was able to share with her, as little as it was, about what it was like over there. She heard it, and I want you to be able to understand how music can change its intent and meaning, just like the wind changes directions. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, honestly; yes, it really does. Can I try it again?” Gustav smiled and played the opening chords again.

And tonight, it would be about anger. The anger brewed in her soul this dark, rainy evening and she needed to find release instead of letting it consume her. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of the lament when she heard the pull of violin strings. She almost stopped dead in the middle of the lament.  _ Oh my God, who would do this? Who the hell is here? Just leave me alone. _ But there was something so different than anything she had felt before pulling at her soul. She continued. “He’s gone, he’s gone…” she sang. The lament came to a close and her voice and the mysterious violin echoed the empty halls. 

“Again… sing for me, my angel,” she heard the most mellow and sensual voice waft through her senses as she heard the violin begin is serenade again. “Sing!” the voice demanded. Her senses were overwhelmed and her soul screamed with musical ecstasy, which she willingly surrendered.  _ I’m yours, I’m yours. Let me weep, you angel of music _ .


	8. Decisions

**Chapter 8: Decisions**

Again the dance of their last notes echoed through the empty halls. Both Erik and Christine felt breathless, not sure what to make of this encounter. They ached and yearned for more. There were no words to utter, only music. Before she could overthink the situation, Christine found herself in front of the piano, placing her unsteady, trembling fingers on the keys and struck the dark chords of Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise. “Play with me,” Christine begged, “please…” And there, in the midst of all their pain, their anguish, their loneliness, two musical souls were bound together, a mutual display and show of absolute perfection and of unity. Two musical souls who were adrift in the emptiness of loss and heartache found each other and embraced a new harmony. Every crescendo lifted their minds to a new dimension, every delayed entrance pushed their souls over the precipice, every intonation of vibrato shook their bodies in ecstasy. 

The pull of Erik’s violin strings gave Christine the sensation of long fingers seductively tracing gentle pathways on her arms as goosebumps dotted her skin. Erik’s eyes slid closed as images of his angel caressing the piano keys in a way that made his aching heart wish her fingers would caress his face, delicately but with a gentle urgency. For in this moment, there was no mask, there was no barrier between him and his angel. It was all Erik could ever ask for - a moment to feel like a man, a WHOLE man, with nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. For in this very moment, when two lost souls were completely alone on a night reserved for families, Erik and Christine found meaning. All these years, all the heartache, all the pain, all the silent tears, all of it came to this moment. Two strangers struggling for purpose, for guidance, found each other. “Tonight, if only for tonight, this would feed me for a lifetime,” Erik thought to himself. Again, the last notes hung in the quiet air. Christine sat reflectively and, for the first time in what felt like weeks, smiled. He wasn’t sure what took hold of him, but his hands ached for more. He sat down quickly and sighed. Suddenly Christine heard the rolling chords and arpeggios of Chopin’s Etude Op. 25 No. 12. She was transported and felt this musician’s fingers dance on her skin with a reckoning of wanton desire, of exploration, and of healing. 

There was an unspoken acknowledgement not to taint this moment with another sound. And just as silently as Erik had slid down the hallway upon his arrival, he just as quietly packed up his items and cautiously exited the practice room. Before he could round the corner, she spoke to him from much farther behind him. “Thank you,” Christine spoke timidly, keeping her eyes locked on the floor, daring not to glance at the tall figure growing smaller upon his retreat. Erik paused at her angelic voice while placing his newsboy cap upon his dark hair and rounded the corner. What he didn’t hear would have surely ripped out his heart to claim his undying love and adoration. “I will never forget this; you’ll never know what you’ve done for me tonight,” Christine confessed aloud, “and I will never forget you.” She retreated back into the room and attempted to mimic the sounds echoing in her memory, but her exhaustion was becoming overwhelming and her eyes grew heavy. It was well after midnight and Christine resolved to head back to her apartment. Her sweatshirt was still wet as she pulled it on and made the long, wet, cold walk to south campus. The only warmth she felt was the sound of Erik.

By the time she reached her apartment, Christine was soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. She quickly shed her wet layers to thaw in a hot shower. Her throat was achy and scratchy, her head throbbing as she climbed into bed, wrapped in the warmth of her blankets, while the serenading lullaby of Erik’s voice soothed her into a deep slumber.

* * *

Erik paced like a caged tiger, the beast inside needing an escape. She was there tonight, with him, singing for him, with him… together. Her voice captivated him in ways no one had ever done before. He recalled his conversation with Meg just months earlier.  _ Write her a note, Erik _ . He grabbed a blank page from his sketchbook and wrote on the page:

_ “Music is the heart of life; without it, there is no possible good and with it everything is beautiful.”   
_ _ -F. Liszt  
_ __ I find your heart full of music. -E

It would be a long night, but he knew what needed to be done. The criteria for his final doctoral presentation in the next few years came roaring to the forefront of his mind as he went through the requirements: the first part of the performance is a prepared piece (he had already chosen Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2) to be performed with the chamber orchestra. The second performance was his original composition, his symphony. And finally, anl encore of a classical piece arranged into modern influences. This, the encore, he would write for her voice, for her to perform, so that the world would be enthralled with his angel’s voice. It was all for her, and Erik was determined to someday find the courage and the strength to be able to tell her. The hours passed and bled into the early morning, finding staff-lined papers, a multitude of discarded and dried up pens littering the floor and Erik, his mask discarded, slumped over the piano keys sound asleep.

Upon rousing and greeting the gloomy, grey morning, Erik was determined to not chicken out. Simple missive in hand, he made his way back to the music building, down the hall to the worn down practice rooms, and entered his angel’s musical dwelling. Before he could second guess himself, he gently placed the note on her piano and sauntered home, with just a little more self-confidence in his step.  _ No turning back _ .

* * *

Sadly for Christine, the morning brought with it an unbearable fever with accompanying body aches and chills and a pounding headache. Her throat burned with every breath and swallow. She awoke feeling dizzy and delirious, a cohesive thought wouldn’t form. The flu. She fumbled for her phone and through blurry vision noticed, once again, a multitude of text messages from Kevin. “Christ leave me alone for once. I’m done with you,” Christine muffled from under the covers. Instead she dialed a different number. “Hey kid!” came the jovial voice on the other line. “How are y-...?”

“Uncle Nadir, I need help,” Christine choked out through tears.  _ Why am I crying? _ “I need urgent care… flu.”

“I’m on my way, sweetie; I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Nadir didn’t have to think twice and grabbed his keys.  _ Where’s Kevin? Christ what happened… _

About an hour later, Christine slithered to unlock the apartment door and practically collapsed into Nadir’s arms. “ Yeah you’re burning up, I’m taking you to the ER. Sit down sweetie and I’ll grab your slippers and sweatshirt.” 

A few hours later, Nadir and Christine were driving back to campus. It was just a mild case of the flu, but Nadir refused to leave Christine’s side during her recovery. “We’ll go back to your apartment and pack a few things and you’ll stay home with me. I don’t want you to be alone, kiddo.” Christine gave a weak smile. “I’m sorry Nadir - I never should have canceled our Thanksgiving plans and gone home with Kevin. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m so sorry.” She was almost sobbing in the front seat. “Chrissie, that’s enough. There’s nothing to apologize for - you can’t get rid of me that easily, and besides…” and his words dropped off. There, standing outside the apartment with an agitated and exasperated scowl, was Kevin.  _ This little shit. _

Kevin was opening the passenger side door before Nadir could even put the car in park. “What happened?” Nadir couldn’t figure out if the question was asked out of concern or annoyance.

“Kevin, she has the flu. She called me this morning and we’re just getting back from the ER. She’ll be on antibiotics and bed rest for the next week. No school, and no staying alone. She’s coming home with me,” Nadir stated matter-of-factly. Kevin was silent as he helped Nadir walk Christine to the apartment. The awkwardness and annoyance was palpable. Christine was still in a feverish daze as she laid on the couch. “I’m packing your bag, sweetie, and your books and laptop. I’ll be right back. Kevin, get her a glass of water please.” Kevin stood scowling but obliged the order. A few minutes later, Nadir emerged from Christine’s bedroom with her backpack and a small duffle bag of clean clothes. “Take these out to my car, Kevin.” Oh how Kevin loathed being ordered around, especially by this old man, but did as he was instructed.

The next silent minutes saw Christine back in the passenger seat, almost asleep, as Kevin closed the door. “You know, I’m not exactly sure why she didn’t call me. No offense, Mr. Khan, but I was on my way here anyway. I should’ve been the one to handle this, not you.”

“Well, Kevin, tough shit. I’ve let a lot of things go and have kept my mouth shut about your relationship. Don’t expect me to no longer be cordial. Now, if you’ll excuse us, WE are going HOME,” Nadir pushed by Kevin and got in the car. Kevin watched as Nadir grabbed Christine’s hand and mouthed a few words while Christine looked at Nadir and smiled, never even acknowledging Kevin’s existence. Kevin fumed. The end was drawing near. 

The next 72 hours saw Christine huddled under the covers, oblivious to the world churning about outside. Thankfully her body began to heal and she was finally able to eat and drink in between her bouts of sleepiness and hot showers. And as promised, Nadir never left her side. It wasn’t until Thursday evening well after the dinner hour that Christine emerged from her room and climbed onto the couch and snuggled against Nadir. “Hey kid, how are you feeling? You look like you have more color in your face that doesn’t mimic a perfectly ripe red apple. You ok?” Christine leaned in closer and hugged Nadir with a daughter-like ferociousness and sighed. “Yeah, a lot better. Thanks for coming to the rescue, Nadir; after everything I’ve put you through, I was surprised you answered the phone when I called.” Nadir shot up and took his goddaughter’s hands fervently into his. “No, no, none of that. How could you EVER think I wouldn’t answer the phone? Chrissie, you’re the daughter I never had. Nothing will ever change that. So don’t you dare apologize or think that I feel any different about you. You’re the only family I got, kid, nothing will ever change that. I love you so much, and all I want is for you to be happy and healthy. And right now, I want you to simply listen to what I’m telling you: Kevin is bad news and he does NOT deserve you. You deserve more. If he doesn’t treat you like the angel you are, he doesn’t deserve you. And on Gus’s grave, I swear if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.” Nadir was near tears. Everything he had wanted to warn her against and tell her from the very beginning was now tumbling out. Yes, Christine and Kevin had only been together for nearly five months, but it was astonishing how fast things moved between them.

“I see it now, Uncle Nadir, I do. And I understand where you’re coming from. Thanksgiving was a disaster and I was so unhappy being with his family. I hated every minute of it. And the night I got back, all I wanted was you and Dad. I wanted to call, but I was so sad that I broke your heart about Thanksgiving, so I walked to the music building and then I heard…”

“Wait, you WALKED? No wonder you got the flu, kid! You’re just as stubborn as your dad…” Nadir chuckled apprehensively, but never grasped what Christine wanted to confess about that night. About the man who brought music out of her soul she hadn’t felt in her whole life; about the man’s voice who helped serenade her and comfort her into sleep on the eve of sickness.

“I never said I had common sense, Nadir… and YOU are just as stubborn as dad was,” Christine jabbed back. She snuggled against Nadir once more and sighed. “I’ve missed this,” she confessed. Nadir held her tighter than ever before. “Me too, kid, me too. I love you,” and placed a kiss on the top of her tangled, curly hair. “I need a sketchbook and pencils,” she whispered before trailing off to sleep.

* * *

It had been over a week since Erik sang with an angel, but he promised himself that that night would be enough to keep him fulfilled. He found himself completely baffled how she could constantly disappear and reappear without an inclination of what drew her to the halls of the music building. There would be weeks when he wouldn’t hear her voice but then suddenly she would appear like a dream, like an angel descending from heaven to bless his soul with her gift. Again he questioned if she was indeed real. There was no time to collapse inward. Finals were pending, compositions for classes needed to be completed, recitals to be performed… an aria to compose for her. He achingly craved her voice.

* * *

It had been over a week since Christine spoke to Kevin. She felt more resolute during her flu-induced quarantine to put an end to the relationship before things could get any more out of control. But Kevin’s grasp of control remained. The weeks and months of  _ something  _ Christine couldn’t identify or figure out still dictated her thoughts and emotions. She returned to campus on a Sunday evening to find an empty apartment. There was no roommate. Danielle was gone, her room was empty, her belongings packed away. The only thing remaining was a note on the refrigerator. 

_ Hi, I’m not coming back next semester since I decided to transfer. Sorry to miss you. Good luck with Kevin. _

Christine wanted to be surprised, to feel slighted but rationally she knew it was just a matter of time. After Kevin’s blow up about Christine’s conversation with Marcus, the way Kevin spoke to Danielle during their interactions, the disrespectful tones in which Kevin spoke to and about Nadir, and the condescending patronizations and “I know you better than anyone else” mannerisms when Kevin and Christine were together, Kevin certainly made his mark. The damage was done, and Christine felt it would take a massive leap of faith to begin the repairs. That first step meant breaking up with Kevin.

“I have missed you so much,” Kevin confessed. “I understand you were sick, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t want to talk to me, or answer my calls or texts. But I’m glad you’re better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she was beginning to resume the role of dutiful obeyer. “It was a really rough week, and I slept for most of the time. Even Nadir barely saw me as I hid away under the covers.” She faked a chuckle. Kevin was less than amused.

“Well I think it’s time we talk about Christmas. Finals are next week, and since Christmas is two weeks away, I really want you to come home with me again. My mom loved you, and it’s time you and I spent some time alone to reconnect. What do you say?”

“Um, well, that’s just it. Nadir and I were planning Christmas together since I missed Thanksgiving with him.”

“You spent lots of time with him just last week. I’m only asking for one holiday Christine.”

“I’m not asking for the impossible, Kevin, and I was sick. I need to spend some time with Nadir. What about spending the weekend before Christmas with your parents?”

Kevin fumed. “Fine, the weekend before Christmas. But I want to spend New Year’s with you. That much you have to give me. I’m not asking for the moon and the stars. I’m asking for your time, if you can manage even that at this point.”

Christine leaned in to hug and snuggle, to console. “No, I can. It’ll be a nice visit, I’m sure, so we’ll figure it out later. We can talk about New Year’s.” Wait, wasn’t she trying to break things off? Oh he was good, he was so, so good at whatever it was he was doing. He was  _ the  _ master manipulator. “Well, I need to go prepare for my piano final. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I love you, Chris, don’t forget that,” Kevin commanded and leaned in for a hard, unfeeling kiss. She felt a brief cut of teeth upon her lips that sent disgusted, nauseating chills down her spine.

During her walk to the music building, Christine replayed the conversation over and over in her head. She didn’t even realize that she had reached her practice room until she turned on the light and noticed a stark-white piece of paper propper up on the piano, rather jagged handwriting glaring up at her in black. She glanced out into the hallway - not a soul was heard except the sounds emitting from the other practice rooms. Her eyes popped wide in hopeful realization. “Oh my God, it’s from  _ him _ ,” and held the note to her chest and smiled.

* * *

Erik’s semester came to an anticlimactic end with a rather boring dictation of one of Mozart’s pieces, a lackluster critique of some random student’s recital performance, and typically bland and mundane prepared violin etude to fulfill a course assignment for his degree requirements. All boring, all lacking creativity and originality, all stagnant. With the end of the semester reaching a rather mundane, uneventful conclusion, Erik could only surmise that Christmas was soon to follow. Christmas was not Erik’s preferred holiday, or any holiday for that matter. Yes he was grateful and felt the love bestowed to him from Raoul and Meg and their families. But it was lonely nonetheless. He craved to share Christmas with someone, to hold a special someone in his arms as the warmth of white twinkle lights and the popping of wood in the fireplace would envelop him and… her. No, he couldn’t possibly imagine his angel sharing such a sacred holiday with a deformed, hideous demon from hell. He must be content with  _ just  _ music,  _ just  _ her voice, and  _ just  _ the imagination of being together. He needed a distraction and perhaps a little inspiration from the heavens themselves. Erik pulled out his phone and started the text group. 

Erik:  _ I need an escape. Semester break, some place warm, far away. Where should we go? _

Raoul:  _ The beach? Florida? _

Meg:  _ I feel like everyone will be there because it’s been so brutally cold. Let’s try something totally different none of us has been to before. _

Erik:  _ Arizona? Fly to Tucson then we get a rental car and drive to the Grand Canyon? We can visit drive through Flagstaff and visit the Lowell Observatory. Let me know. The guys at CVAAS have connections. We can do a private tour. _

Meg & Raoul:  _ YES! Oh my gosh, YES! _

Erik:  _ We leave the day after Christmas on the 26th. We’ll come back after New Year’s. Pack your bags; let’s fly away! _

Tucking his phone back into his bag, Erik lifted his violin and began the serenade of Vavilov’s Ave Maria, in reverence and prayer to his angel, writing frantically the refrains in which Christine’s voice would raise their audience to heaven.

* * *

The weekend before Christmas with Kevin and his family was a complete and utter disaster. He was on a rampage, angry and aggressive towards everyone and everything. First it was him losing his temper and cool with his mom, mouthing off and being completely disrespectful for no other reason than needing his help with something simple as taking her car to the shop for new tires since she had to work that afternoon and needed to use Mr. Trickman’s car. To vent his anger and aggression, Kevin dragged Christine with him, driving recklessly down iced-over winding streets; he shouted and tantrumed his way through the land of “know it alls” at the mechanics at the repair shop. He pushed his mom away from the stove when the green beans began burning in the pot. And on the last night there, Christine imitating deep sleep so as to avoid further wrath, she glanced over to see Kevin grossly immersed watching a sexually violent movie on TV. The next morning, Christine awoke to subtle cackling coming from the dining room. There sat Kevin with his uncle, chuckling over a pot of coffee, quickly losing their lighthearted demeanor as soon as Christine entered the room. Whispering began shortly after Christine left the room. She was done with it – the crappy attitude, the knot she would get in her throat when he came near her...she was afraid of him. AFRAID. His mom quietly mumbled a one-off comment about needing to end the relationship sooner rather than later. 

It was until the afternoon on their last day at his parents when Christine knew it was time. Christine had made plans with a few classmates from her Russian classes to go to their professors’ home for dinner and to go over expectations for the next semester. It was to be an evening of Russian culture, language, food, and laughs. But that evening never happened for Christine. Kevin knew of these plans and purposefully delayed their return to Western Cypress.

“Kevin, we have to go. I was supposed to be there over an hour ago, and they’re wondering where I am. Please, we really need to leave.”

“You know, there’s really no point in going. It’s still over an hour drive back to campus, so you might as well just not worry about it.”

“Are you serious?” Kevin’s mom piped in. “Kevin, you guys should head out before it gets any darker. And with temperatures dropping again, you’ll have iced over roads.”

“This doesn’t concern you, mother,” Kevin seethed. Finally at 7:00PM, three hours after the gathering had started, Kevin and Christine started the drive back to campus. Christine was in tears, sat obediently and quietly in the passenger seat, and pulled out her phone.

“Who are you texting? Bitching about me to someone?”

“Just Nadir, just letting him know I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

Christine:  _ We’re just now driving back to campus. I’m scared of him. I hate to ask and I’ll help pay, but what about changing our plans and flights. _

Nadir:  _ How far are you from campus? I’m sitting in front of our reservation. When do you want to leave? _

Christine:  _ About 30 minutes away, will explain later. Can we leave the day after Christmas instead of the weekend after? I’m ready to go. _

Nadir:  _ Call me when you are safely alone in your apartment. Making changes now. _

Christine:  _ Tucson and Lowell Observatory, here we come. _

When Kevin dropped Christine off at the apartment, the silence was deafening. The anger palpable. “Well, I guess I’ll see you New Year’s. Call me on Christmas so we can at least talk,” Kevin said as his eyes burned right through her.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” Christine’s voice above a whisper, her eyes glued to the ground. She flinched when Kevin leaned in for a hug and kiss.

“Whatever.” And Kevin got in the car, slammed the door, and sped off.

* * *

Christine didn’t bother calling Kevin over Christmas, nor did she respond to his multiple text messages.  _ This trip to Arizona can’t get here soon enough. _

Erik grew frustrated with his composing and was even more longing to hear Christine’s voice.  _ Perhaps this trip to Arizona will do me good. It can’t get here soon enough. _


	9. Venus

**Chapter 9: Venus**

_ Christmas Eve and Morning _

Christine awoke from her afternoon nap still wrapped in her fleece blanket, snuggling on the couch, the Christmas tree lights twinkling away as the smell of warm cider wafted through the house. Nadir had made his famous lavender infused apple cider, which simmered on low in the crockpot all morning. The pair had decided to leave the city and spend Christmas eve and morning at the house in the woods. It was a much needed escape from the drama of the semester with Kevin. Christine maintained a close hold about the house in the woods, and was relieved that this aspect of her life remained undiscovered by Kevin. These sacred grounds were her safe haven of which Kevin knew nothing.

“How was your nap?” Nadir asked as he brought in a fresh mug of cider for Christine. Her heavily-socked toes danced out from underneath the blanket with a cat-like stretch and yawn. “You sleep like the dead,” Nadir chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Up to you, but I was thinking maybe we should go to the candlelight service at 11:00PM at the church tonight. What do you think?”

“You actually want to go to church? That’s, um, new for you, Uncle Nadir,” Christine mused. “But yes, I’d love to go.” The next few hours passed sleepily by as Christine prepared her famous lasagna for dinner. This time last year found the pair around the kitchen eating lasagna, and it seemed like a new tradition was birthed for their Christmases together. Dinner passed by quietly as the magic of Christmas Eve wrapped itself about the house in the woods. Christine and Nadir dressed for the candlelight service and headed out the door. The service in the small church was perfect. The sounds of Ave Maria, of Joy to the World, and of the hopeful prayers of holy sacraments filled Christine’s soul with a renewed comfort and peace. For what felt like the first time in many weeks, Christine fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of  _ the voice _ .

“Merry Christmas and good morning, my sweet girl.” Nadir hugged Christine and poured her a cup of coffee. “I didn’t get you much this year, but I do have two surprises,” Nadir mentioned casually with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“You’re too sneaky for your own good; Merry Christmas, Uncle Nadir,” Christine replied as she handed Nadir an envelope that contained a gift card to his favorite tobacco store in her small hometown and a card. “I don’t have much, but I do have one more thing for you,” she said as the duo headed into the living room. “I hope you like this and doesn’t weird you out too much” and handed Nadir a neatly wrapped square-shaped present.

Nadir unwrapped it carefully and held up the framed, hand-sketched picture. A broad smile melted into a furrowed brow accompanied with tears. “Oh Christine, oh my goodness… I just… I have no words. How on earth did you…?” and he couldn’t finish his thought as he choked on his words. In his hand held a drawing sketched by Christine, taken from an old photo of Gustav and Nadir during their tour in Vietnam. The two were sitting opposite each other on their cots, with a small card table in between them, playing a hand of poker. Half-smoked cigarettes darting out of their mouths, each man wearing a mischievous grin and flipping the bird to the cameraman. The original photo was always framed and sat on Gustav’s nightstand for as long as Christine could remember. 

“I know it’s not perfect and the sketch is still really basic, but this was dad’s favorite picture of you two and I wanted you to have one, too, but hand-drawn. I hope you like it,” Christine admitted.

“Christine, this is the most amazing present I’ve ever received. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, sweetie… I love it. And I love you so much!” He leaned over to wrap her in a massive bear hug. “Where on earth did you find the time, or even learn how to sketch like this?” he asked running his aged fingers along the glass top frame.

“I dunno, I wanted to start drawing so I watched a few videos online and started doing it at night when I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. But what she didn’t confess and admit was the  _ who _ , who inspired this newfound creativity. Ever since that night when she heard that voice,  _ his voice _ , who commanded her to sing, whom she thanked in the hallway, she ached for more creativity. Nothing or no one inspired like this in her life. She didn’t dare look at the man that night after Thanksgiving in the music building, terrified she’d break the magic of that encounter, keeping her eyes locked on the floor. Her wandering peripheral glances, however, caught the shape of a tall figure wearing a newsboy cap, a violin case in hand, and the rigid lines of his profile left her breathless and had her hands craving to draw him so she would never forget him. No, she couldn’t tell Nadir this; no, this was a secret to keep to herself.

The rustling of wrapping paper broke Christine from her memories of that night as Nadir handed her a rather heavy box. “I think this first present comes at a good time now that I see you’ve started drawing,” Nadir said with a smile. Christine tore into the paper and opened a wooden carrying box filled to the brim with notebooks of heavy sketch paper, sketching pencils, and sketching coal. “Wait, how did you know?” Christine asked puzzled.

“You might not remember, but the night your fever finally broke after Thanksgiving and you were feeling better from your bout of flu, you dazily said something to the effect of ‘I need a sketch pad’ before falling asleep on the couch. So that’s why I wanted to get you these,” Nadir replied. “I hope you like them.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you so much!! It’s more than I could have asked for.”

“Well, I do have one more surprise, and ironically ties your artwork to me in perfectly,” Nadir responded as he came out from the spare bedroom carrying a odd-shaped case. “I wanted to give this to you, but only at the right time, and I feel like this is that time.” He laid the case on the living room floor and motioned Christine to join him. “I don’t know if you knew that Gus played guitar. He learned it for your mom while we were on holiday leave in Hawaii in between tours. Your mom loved the song Autumn Leaves or as the French say, ‘Les feuilles mortes’. Gus gave me the longest history lesson of that piece which I have since forgotten. But he learned the guitar while on leave for your mom. When we finally came home from our tour, he played it for her on this very guitar, and then proposed. He left me this guitar because it was closely tied to our time in-country, but I want you to have it.” And with a quick flip of the case clasps, Nadir opened the top and pulled out a rather weathered and tired guitar.

“I’m speechless, and I didn’t know that story about dad proposing to mom with this song. Are you sure you want to part with this beauty, especially since I don’t know how to play guitar?” Christine was cautious. It held such sentimental significance during a tumultuous time she never heard either Gustav or Nadir ever talk about. 

“It’s yours, Christine. What better way to keep the memory of your parents’ love story alive than to learn to play the guitar that started their journey as man and wife?” Nadir pushed Christine’s hair behind her ear as they both blinked away their tears. Christine held the guitar and gave a quick untrained strum. It was a melancholy sound that mimicked a very familiar sound - a voice so dark, sultry, daring, and romantic,  _ his voice _ .

A few hours passed by with breakfast, laughter, and packing for their trip. Christine packed her carry-on with all the new art supplies and fiddled around with Gus’s guitar. Night fell upon the house in the woods, and dinner was left over lasagna. The next morning was dark, gray and gloomy as the pair headed for the airport to embark toward warmer weather, to the Grand Canyon, and most interestingly, the Lowell Observatory. The small, cozy lodge they found online held their reservation and eagerly awaited a different group of friends heading in the same direction.

* * *

Erik awoke on the morning of Christmas Eve to find crumpled papers, discarded pens and pencils, and an open sketchbook littering his bed and bedroom floor. All the papers contained the same image of  _ her _ . Her flowing curls, her fingers dancing on the piano keys. The other papers closer to his violin held the contents of his neoclassical interpretation to Vavilov’s Ave Maria, composed and arranged for  _ her voice _ . Glancing at his laptop, Erik quickly realized Christmas Eve dinner at Mama and Papa Giry’s was a few hours away and he still needed to shower and pack for the night, and again for Christmas Day with the de Chagny family, and then finally for the trip to Arizona. 

An hour later came a honk from Raoul’s car. Just like Thanksgiving’s tradition, Christmas Eve was the same. It was spent with Meg and Raoul at Meg’s parents’ house, followed by Christmas Day with Raoul’s family just 30 minutes from where Meg grew up. Each small town boasted the best diners in the county and bragged about having pancakes the size of one’s face. Both those claims were wholly disappointing as the trio departed the only small diner in Meg’s hometown, and left Erik teasing Meg relentlessly from the back seat.

The Giry home on Christmas was always welcoming and wholesome and warm. Anna Giry, a retired ballet teacher, preferred log cabin-themed decor and Christmas gave an extra good excuse to hang apple wreaths, craft pinecone table trees wrapped in white twinkle lights, and fill the house with the smells of warm, homemade apple cider infused with lavender. Jacques Giry hailed originally from Paris, where he met Anna decades ago while she was studying abroad studying classic ballet. He waited for her after a performance one evening, and the two were inseparable since. Raoul, Meg and Erik pulled into the driveway to the welcoming, wholesome hugs of Jacques and Anna. “Merry Christmas, my babies!” sang Anna. “I’ve missed you all terribly. Oh goodness, come in, come in, it’s freezing out here. Erik, sweetie, your mug of lavender earl grey tea awaits you in the kitchen.” Jacques extended a welcoming hand to Erik and a warm smile.  _ The best parents I could have ever wanted. _

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, as Erik offered insights into how his composing was coming along for his doctoral thesis and the now more solid plans of moving to New York City over the summer to begin his doctoral fellowship. “So tell us how this works Erik, how long will you be away from us? I don’t like this one bit… do say you’ll be coming home to visit us and not constantly in the city!” Anna was less than thrilled that her “adoptive son” was leaving a strong support system for an unforgiving city.

“Mama Giry, I appreciate your concerns, but it’s not a forever goodbye and parting. Simply a temporary absence. I will depart for New York, the Monday following graduation in May. I will begin this unique program shadowing the director while also absorbing insights from fellow chamber orchestra members in tandem with laying the finishing touches upon my symphony. The plan is to travel and tour with the company for an entire year. I will come back to Western Cypress for the remaining last year of research finalizing the full doctoral recital. And once the recital and the debut of my symphony is performed to the public, then God-willing I will be awarded my doctoral degree. From there, well, I haven’t quite figured that out just yet. Perhaps teaching composition, violin and voice full time at the university.”

By the evening, the entire family gathered in the living room exchanging presents and Erik performed a few pieces on the piano to ring in Christmas. As the excitement from the day drifted into the quiet, solemn peace of Christmas Eve, the Giry house settled into silent slumber. Almost everyone. Sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room, Erik sketched and drew  _ her _ . And as his eyes were heavily laden with sleep, all he could hear in his slumber was  _ her voice _ .

Christmas morning found the family exchanging gifts. Erik was difficult to buy for, but he didn’t care one bit. What mattered most was the love and family he was adopted into after becoming friends with Meg and Raoul. This morning, Erik found himself opening presents containing staff-lined composition paper and new fountain pens, which were always appreciated. Sure he could compose on his laptop, but there was something so much more tangible by transcribing the genius swirling in his mind through his hands and fingers onto the paper that brought everything to life.

By 11:00AM, the trio said their goodbyes and headed to Raoul’s house for the remainder of Christmas Day. The de Chagny family was very welcoming as well but certainly more formal. They came from money and Mr. Raoul de Chagny, Sr. was a retired U.S. Navy JAG Corps rear admiral, who served in Vietnam on an aircraft carrier and later a permanent duty station at the Pentagon before retiring back to Pennsylvania. Mrs. Victoria de Chagny served her time as a dutiful officer’s wife and headed a majority of the women’s groups on post during Raoul, Sr.’s career. And their estate boasted of fine things and expensive tastes. Erik felt less at ease here than with the Girys. 

Erik’s past didn’t boast of fine things or expensive tastes. His childhood boasted more of physical and emotional and mental abuse at the hands of an alcoholic mother and her constant rotation of boyfriends and friends. A childhood filled with empty tummies, worn out, ill-fitting clothing, and constant loathing of his appearance from every facet of connections and acquaintances. So things got lost in translation between Erik and the de Chagny’s, particularly when it came time to discuss his upcoming stint in New York City.

“Erik, dear, we have a flat in Manhattan on the Upper West Side. Call us to make arrangements and you can stay there,” Victoria chided. “There’s no sense in renting someplace that will absolutely bankrupt you; stay at the flat.”

“That is very generous of you to offer,” thanked Erik and that was that. Nothing else, but nonetheless, he was incredibly grateful.

Later that evening, and again after very formal gifts were exchanged and pleasantries extended for a good night’s rest, Erik stayed up and sat in the formal sitting room near the fireplace, sketching furiously. The sound of shuffling feet startled him as he watched Mr. de Chagny make his way to the kitchen. “Ah, dear boy, come, grab a drink with me,” Raoul, Sr. instructed. Erik looked around and felt awkward.  _ Well this is new… _ He did as instructed, picked up his sketchbook and met Raoul, Sr. in the kitchen at the table.

“Christmas is always tough for some reason; lots of memories sleeping on the carrier back in the ‘60s,” Raoul, Sr. said to no one in particular. “Scotch, lad?” Erik nodded yes. The clink of ice and the pour of liquid was inviting as Erik took hold of his glass. “What are you drawing there, son?”

Erik barely stifled a choking cough as the burn from the scotch coated his throat. “Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, just some random sketches, sir.”

“May I?” Erik obliged and shakily handed him the book. A few hmms and ohhs escaped the admiral’s mouth. “Well, these are quite exquisite. Who is she?” His eyes twinkled with a glimmer of mischief. Erik quickly felt embarrassed.

“I, um, I don’t really know who she is. I have encountered her a few times in the music building and have heard her sing,” Erik felt nauseous, ready for the torment and teasing.

“Erik, she’s beautiful and your drawings are very intriguing. This is excellent work, profound artistry. Do you know her?”

“Thank you, sir. No, sir, we’ve never spoken. She hasn’t…”

“She hasn’t seen you…?”

“Not exactly, sir, no.”

“Well I don’t know what’s stopping you.” That was unexpected coming from a man so obviously calculated and deliberate with everything he said and did.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Erik was astonished and baffled. He quickly took another drink, thinking this was a dream.

“Erik, listen. You’re a man, despite how you see yourself. Don’t deny it; I’ve been around guys like you,” he stopped abruptly to rephrase. “You misunderstand me. Guys who are tormented by who they are, what they’ve experienced. That was Vietnam, son, no boy came home whole after that shit show, and this old man can attest to that.” A silence settled between them as Raoul, Sr. refilled their glasses. “Take it from this old man, Erik. You deserve to feel like a man. I know who you are. We, Victoria and I and Junior, we know who you are. You should talk to her, don’t be afraid. You have one life, son. Live it.” And with that, Raoul, Sr. finished off the last of his scotch and bid a rather baffled Erik a good night, as Erik sat in the stillness of the de Chagny manor, staring at the angel he sketched in adoration.

The next morning, with suitcases and plane tickets in hand, Meg, Raoul and Erik made their way to the airport, where the Lowell Observatory awaited their arrival with open telescopes and observation decks. A comfy, cozy lodge would welcome them openly, as well as welcoming another duo right behind.

* * *

_ Tucson, Arizona _

The flight into Tucson was uneventful and easy. Nadir and Christine navigated their way quickly to baggage claim followed shortly towards the rental car area. They were staying in Tucson for just two nights before making the trek up north towards Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. Christine turned on her cell phone to see text messages from Kevin, which she deleted without reading. Kevin was a simple afterthought during Christmas. She didn’t feel any inkling of remorse that they hadn’t spoken since the semester ended, and she felt relieved. 

The warm, bright sunshine hit their faces immediately, and transported them into serene happiness. “Wow, it’s so beautiful out here! Can we go see the university campus after we check into the hotel?” Christine was ecstatic.

“Oh yeah, let’s go! I hear the campus smells of citrus,” Nadir added.

They checked in to a Holiday Inn Express and quickly set out for the campus. They walked around taking a multitude of pictures before finding a hole-a-wall Tex Mex restaurant across from the campus. The two gorged themselves on guacamole and steak fajitas until they were going to burst. The sun was setting quickly by the time they got back to the hotel. “I’m gonna take a shower and relax a little bit. This old man is tired,” Nadir said. “You ok on your own, kid? Here’s some cash if you want something from the restaurant downstairs. Take your phone.”

“I think I’ll sit outside for a while and sketch. I might grab something to drink. I’ll be up in a little bit.” Christine grabbed her bag filled with her art supplies and headed outside. The air had cooled off significantly now that the sun had fallen below the horizon, but the warm citrus breezes engulfed her senses as she found a firepit ablaze behind the hotel. A few other vacationers were there drinking and chatting as Christine opened her sketchbook and began drawing in the surrounding scene.  _ This is perfect, I love it here _ . The sound of a crystalline laugh caused Christine to glance up briefly to find a beautiful young couple sitting in the hot tub near the pool. This young couple was obviously in love, a woman with beautiful blonde hair and a dashing young man sat beside her. Christine began sketching the couple, faces obscured by the darkness and dim patio lights. Her eyes becoming heavy, Christine decided to pack up and head back to the room. She glanced one last time at the very much in love couple and smiled hopefully. She pushed the call button to the elevator and entered. Right before the doors closed, she happened to look up in just enough time to see a very tall and somewhat familiar figure exit the opposite elevator. The doors closed too quickly for her to fully take in the figure, but the feeling of deja-vu jolted her just enough to question: it couldn’t possibly be  _ him _ ?

* * *

Erik, Meg and Raoul finally got to the rental car and made their way to the hotel in Tucson near the university campus. Erik had a throbbing headache, which started during the security check line at the airport in Philadelphia.

“Sir, you need to remove your mask. You cannot pass through security with that on.”

“I will not remove it.”

Over the radio, the TSA agent called for a supervisor. “We have an uncooperative passenger. Requesting supervisor assistance at terminal A.”

“Uncooperative? Is this really necessary?” Raoul was fuming. “This is ridiculous. Just let him through.”

“Sir, this doesn’t concern you. You and the young lady can please walk through security and claim your items.”

Erik was taken to a private screening area and was required to remove his mask. The supervisor noticeably swallowed back vomit and went pale white. “I am indeed a handsome fellow, am I not? Have you had your fill yet? Will you allow me to intermingle with the others, or would you insist on parading the abhorrentness of this monstrous abomination to the masses?” Erik fumed as he pulled on his mask. Exiting the screening room, he shoved past Meg and Raoul.

The flight was awkward as the trio sat in complete silence for the duration of the flight. By the time they landed, Erik’s anger slowly dissipated as the promise of warm sunlight and a new place awaited him, but his head throbbed harder.  _ Merry fucking Christmas, you ass holes _ . He wasn’t quite sure to whom he was cursing.

“Do we want to stop for a bite to eat?” suggested Meg, who was holding onto Erik’s arm as reassurance that everything will be fine.

“No, let’s just get out of here. The hotel has a decent restaurant from the reviews, and we can stop at a CVS or something for some aspirin for Erik,” said Raoul.

“Fine,” Erik retorted, short and choppy, much like his demeanor this evening.

By the time they reached the hotel, Erik was asleep in the back seat of the car. Raoul got out to check in while Meg stayed in the car. “Sweetie, Erik, we’re here. Raoul stopped to get you some medicine. Let’s get you upstairs so you can sleep. I think you’re getting a migraine.”

Raoul and Meg helped Erik out of the car and got him into his room successfully as Meg handed him a glass of ice water and aspirin. “We’ll be downstairs in the restaurant, so text me if you need anything,” said Meg. Erik nodded as he slipped into bed and pulled the covers over his aching head.

Around 9:00PM, Erik emerged from his slumber. His headache did fade significantly, and only a slight, dull pain remained. He texted Raoul who in turn texted a selfie of him and Meg in the hot tub.  _ Glad you’re feeling better. Come outside, it’s nice and cool. We’re in the hot tub! _

_ I can see that, dude. Be down shortly _ .

The elevator opened to the lobby as Erik looked up in time to see the opposing elevator doors close in front of a familiar petite figure with a mop of brown curls and stopped dead in his tracks.  _ There is no possible way that’s her… _

Erik easily found Meg and Raoul still soaking in the hot tub, and they could tell he was visibly shaken. “What’s up, man, you ok?” Raoul broke Erik from his stupor.

“I swear I just saw…” but Erik dropped the thought. No, it couldn’t be her. He was on the other side of the country during a holiday. Of course she was with her family, enjoying Christmas and celebrating the New Year. And of course she was most likely with that poor excuse for a boyfriend. “Forget it, nevermind. Let’s talk about our plans to head north to Flagstaff.” And quickly the Lowell Observatory consumed their conversation.

* * * 

_ Venus _

The drive from Tucson to Flagstaff was breathtaking. Nadir and Christine found themselves mostly in silence during the three hour drive north. The scenery changed significantly from the flat, red desert sands and saguaros to mountains, hills and valleys and pine trees. The air changed from warm and citrusy to crisp, clean and cool. The lodge in Flagstaff welcomed the duo with glowing water fountains and a warm fire in the main lobby. The scent of pine, firewood, and spicy cinnamon filled Christine’s senses as she felt an encompassing peace resting on her shoulders. It was around dinnertime when they finally checked in and located their room. The Lowell Observatory was open until 10:00PM every night with public walk-thru tours every 30 minutes. “Let’s just go up tonight and look around; tomorrow we can do the full tour,” Christine was elated and could barely contain her enthusiasm. Nadir and Christine headed out after grabbing a quick bite to eat and began walking around the small town up the hill to the observatory.

“Welcome to the Lowell Observatory! My name is Chad, and I’m a Ph.D student at the university. Unfortunately the cloud cover is not cooperating tonight, so you won’t be able to see much. We have a unique phase happening right now where the planet Venus finds herself unusually close to Earth this month, but with the cloud cover we won’t see much, if anything at all. But hopefully tomorrow night the cloud cover will dissipate and we’ll be able to see more. Please let me know if you have any questions!” Nadir and Christine made their way over to Chad as Christine’s curiosity about Venus sparked a lot of questions: why do they call it Venus? Who discovered it? Did Galileo originally thought it was a constellation? 

“I think my favorite thing about Venus is her song,” Chad quickly added. He appreciated Christine’s curiosity and enthusiasm.

“Her song? I don’t understand,” Nadir mused. He was a bookworm but no scientist.

“The coolest part about our solar system is that each planet gives off electromagnetic waves, and those EM waves each have a different pitch. Here, let me show you.” Chad led them into the library of the observatory where he pulled up sound files. “Ok, listen closely. This is Jupiter’s song…” It was kind of creepy and eerie but it was intriguing to hear. Jupiter was low, dark, and daring. “Now, listen to Venus,” and Chad pressed play.

Christine felt her heart stop. “It’s so, metallic-sounding. Like being partially submerged underwater in a metal can. This is incredible.” She was quickly jutted out of her thoughts by a very ecstatic voice calling from the doorway.

“Chad! The clouds lifted! Come look at Venus - it's beautiful!” Chad, Christine and Nadir quickly left the library and made their way to the observatory’s main telescope. 

“Take a look at this,” Chad said with a renewed enthusiasm and let Christine peak through the lens of the telescope. 

Time stood still. Her world stopped. “Oh!” she gasped in a whisper. Venus was blinding and she was breathtaking. “You're as beautiful as endless,” she whispered to herself. The next hour flew by with Nadir and Christine oohing and ahhing through the sights of the telescope, with Christine growing increasingly fascinated by looking up. By 10:30PM, the observatory closed its doors for the evening and Christine continued to ramble on about the sights and the sounds of the planets. She was hooked. That night, she dreamt of stars, constellations, floating in space, of weightlessness. Her imagination lifted her off in this dream, as the thought of another infiltrated through. What would it be like to see Venus with  _ him _ ?

* * *

Erik, Meg and Raoul found themselves a day behind schedule. It was Meg’s turn the next morning to wake up with a 24 hour stomach bug and a visit to the urgent care center nearby in Tucson for a consultation. Later that evening, she was finally feeling well enough for the trio to head north to Flagstaff. With Erik driving and Raoul in the passenger seat, Meg slept the entire drive. They arrived at the cozy lodge a few hours later and put Meg immediately to bed. It was around 9:30PM before Erik took a long walk up to the observatory.

“Good evening and welcome to the Lowell Observatory, how can I help you? We’re about to close up for the night,” said the greeter to Erik.

“Yes, good evening. I’m looking for Chad Firmin. I’m Erik Destler; we have a mutual acquaintance from the Carbon Valley Amateur Astronomical Society in Pennsylvania. Is he around this evening?”

“Oh yes, hello, Mr. Destler! Chad mentioned you’d be stopping by sometime this week. Please follow me to the library!” The greeter and Erik made their way through the building towards the library, where the sounds of Venus welcomed Erik’s ears.

“Chad, Erik Destler is here to see you. Have a good night!” And the greeter left.

“Erik, hey!! It’s great to meet you. Dave mentioned you’d be coming this week. Welcome to Lowell!” Chad extended a welcoming handshake and a broad smile.

“Wow, is that the latest recording from NASA on Venus?” Erik jumped right in.

“Hell yes, it is! Isn’t she beautiful sounding?” And the two fell quiet, listening to the newly released recordings of Venus’ song given her close proximity. Well after closing, Chad and Erik remained in the library discussing all things astronomy and chatting about CVAAS and its latest financial woes. The donations from the community had significantly dropped off and the facility was in need of repairs. “Well that’s really unfortunate, Erik. I wish the university could offer assistance, but we’re experiencing budget shortfalls, too. Sounds like it’s happening everywhere. Heck, even NASA feels the budget freezes on the government side.”

“Agreed. The world has forgotten how to look up and imagine the impossible and appreciate the beauty of it all,” Erik responded philosophically. 

“Well, speaking of looking up, let’s go see her. We were so fortunate enough that the cloud cover lift last night. There was a young woman here last night that asked so many questions about Venus. She was hilarious and almost inspiring with her child-like interest and inquiries. I appreciated it, honestly. Pretty as hell, too,” Chad quietly added. But Erik caught it.  _ Mere coincidence, Erik, mere coincidence. It’s not her _ . 

An hour later, Erik made his way back to the lodge feeling inspired. As he approached his room, the song struck him out of nowhere and he quickly scrambled for a pen and paper. The lyrics came to him like lightning. Inspired by a child-like interest, inspired by  _ her _ beauty, he wrote:

_ The night sky once ruled my imagination.  
_ _ Now I turn the dials with careful calculation.  
_ _ After a while, I thought I'd never find you.  
_ _ I convinced myself that I would never find you,  
_ _ When suddenly I saw you. _

_ At first I thought you were a constellation.  
_ _ I made a map of your stars, then I had a revelation:  
_ _ You're as beautiful as endless,  
_ _ You're the universe I'm helpless in.  
_ _ An astronomer at my best  
_ _ When I throw away the measurements. _

_ Like a telescope,  
_ _ I will pull you so close  
_ _ 'til no space lies in between.  
_ _ And suddenly I see you.  
_ _ Suddenly I see you. _

_ I was a billion little pieces  
_ _ 'til you pulled me into focus.  
_ _ Astronomy in reverse,  
_ _ It was me who was discovered.  
_ _ (I thought I'd never find you,  
_ _ When suddenly I saw you.) _

_ Like a telescope,  
_ _ I will pull you so close,  
_ _ 'til no space lies in between.  
_ _ Then suddenly I see you. _

And he titled it “Venus.”  _ She _ was his Venus, his discovery, his inspiration for all things.

* * *

_ New Year’s and Pennsylvania _

Christine wasn’t sure what exactly made her answer Kevin’s call on New Year’s Eve. By now, she and Nadir had finished their Grand Canyon excursion and stopped in Tucson for their last night in Arizona before catching an early morning flight back to Pennsylvania. 

“Happy New Year, Chris - I’ve been missing you. I feel bad how we left things after the semester,” Kevin sounded apologetic and surprisingly sympathetic. Maybe the time away from each other did them both good.

“Happy New Year, Kevin.” She didn’t apologize, and for once didn’t feel the need to.

“I really wish you were here tonight. We had a great party planned at my parents’ house. I really wish we would have discussed you leaving for AZ so abruptly. Or answer my calls and texts over Christmas. We have a lot to talk about.”

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning,” Christine offered. “I don’t know, Kevin. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the holiday, and I think we need to…”

“No, you’re not doing this over the phone. If you want to call things quits, then grow up and be an adult and at least talk to me in person.” There was the familiar Kevin she knew.

“Fine. I’ll be back on campus the day before school starts. Call you when I’m back at school.” And she hung up.  _ That was a horrible idea taking his call, you idiot. _ Christine entered the hotel room in a rotten mood. “I don’t want to talk about it, ok?” she snapped at Nadir when she caught his concerned face. She changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, pulled the blankets down, climbed into bed and turned the light off with not so much as a “good night” to Nadir.

* * *

Erik, Meg and Raoul decided to take the red eye from Phoenix to Philadelphia.  _ What a terrible idea this was _ . None of them were able to sleep on the plane and by the time they landed in Philadelphia, they were all sick of each other’s company. Meg and Raoul said a quick goodbye to Erik as he headed back to Western Cypress for some much needed peace and quiet. Raoul and Meg made their way to their parents’ homes respectively for some much needed downtime.

Overall Christmas break was good. Erik wondered what his last semester of graduate school would have in store for him before making his next journey to New York in just a few short months.

Christine was back at the house in the woods, forlornly taking down the Christmas decorations and packing them away. Nadir was back at his apartment in the city, gearing up for a busy week at the law firm. Christine sat on her bed, holding Gustav’s guitar, trying to figure out Autumn Leaves and growing increasingly frustrated. She willed herself to quickly pack away the last of the Christmas decorations, and with more resolve, determined to return to campus ahead of schedule.  _ Take control, make a move, and find the courage to do something to contact him in some way _ . There had to be a way to make contact without freaking him out. She stood there scratching her head trying to find a way. “Hey, can you teach me how to play guitar?” she mused aloud. “No, that’s just stupid. Just because he can play the violin doesn’t mean he can play the guitar.” She picked up her digital camera and started looking through the pictures from Arizona. And it hit her like a ton of bricks. “Put it back on him… he wrote to you, now you write to him…”

Quickly pulling up her web browser, she typed in “poems about astronomy”. There, yes, it was perfect. She grabbed her pen, and in perfectly neat cursive wrote her missive:

_ Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—   
_ _ Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night   
_ _ And watching, with eternal lids apart,   
_ _ Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,  
_ _ The moving waters at their priestlike task   
_ _ Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,   
_ _ Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask   
_ _ Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—  
_ _ No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,   
_ _ Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,   
_ _ To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,   
_ _ Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,   
_ _ Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,   
_ _ And so live ever—or else swoon to death.  
_ _ ~John Keats _

“Do I dare write something?” she asked herself. “Just do it…”

_ Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Good luck this semester. -C _

Christine drove to campus early the next morning after securely locking up the house in the woods. Before returning to her apartment on south campus, she stopped in front of the music building, her heart beating furiously with nerves. Part of her hoped the doors would be locked, but alas, unlocked they remained as she headed down the hallway to  _ their _ practice rooms. Before convincing herself this was the dumbest idea she had, she propped her note on the piano and quickly ran out to her car. Pulling up to her apartment, there stood Kevin waiting.

_ Don’t lose your nerve, just do it _ .

Ten minutes later found Kevin slamming the door and storming back to his car and Christine shaking nervously and frightened. It had to be done, and now it was over.

“You’ll be sorry you did this,” Kevin fumed and growled under his breath as he sped off.

* * *

It was late on Sunday night before classes resumed when Erik grew restless. Again the thoughts of  _ her _ flooded his every thought. Pulling on his coat and hat, Erik went for a walk. The cold January air burning his lungs as his breath puffed out in plumes. His legs steered him towards the music building as a hopefulness grew warm in his chest. Somehow he found himself standing in his practice room blinking furious at the envelope resting against the piano.

  
With shaking hands, he slid his long, nimble fingers under the fold and extracted a beautifully penned note. He read the poem, read her well wishes… and he read it again and again, and again and again. The tips of his fingers delicately tracing over her handwriting.  _ My Venus, it was you. You were there _ .


	10. Hide & Seek

**Chapter 10: Hide & Seek**

_ April Fools  
_ It was a beautiful, cloudless April morning. The bright morning sun greeted the sleepy, blurry-eyed students with the promise of an unusually warm early spring day. Excitement was building on campus as the promise of another school year was only a month away, with anticipated graduations, weekend getaways to the beach, full-time summer jobs to build up savings accounts, the laughter and the parties, the deep bonds of friendships forged through the fires of midterms, finals, papers, recitals. All of it had everyone drowning in elysian excitement. All but one. All but Christine. This morning, Christine emerged from her apartment like a zombie after a tumultuous and sleepless night, eyes bloodshot, swollen, and red. Entering the classroom to her Russian class, a classmate walked up to Christine as she slumped defeatedly onto her chair.

“Christine? Are you ok?” asked Jessica as a few others slowly approached. 

“I’m terrified of him,” she crumbled inward and sobbed. “He came to my apartment last night. At first he just knocked on the door. I was in the kitchen washing my dishes before going to bed, it was late, I guess a little after midnight. He must have seen the light glowing underneath the door, but I didn’t feel like talking to him. I’m done talking to him, he just doesn’t get it. So I didn’t answer it but the knocking got louder. I turned the light off and crept into my room. I didn’t dare turn on the light and put my pajamas on in the dark and slid into bed. And I’m laying there, my heart’s racing and then I hear ‘tink, tink, tink’ on my window. I was stupid to think he wouldn’t see me peak through the blinds, or he must have caught the movement. He was standing there throwing stones at my window. And then a few seconds later he’s pounding at the door again. I tried to ignore him but he started shouting my name so I finally let him in,” Christine blurted out between sobbing breaths. “‘Most women would find this romantic, Christine’ was all he said when he pushed his way in. ‘Every girl I know would love to have their boyfriend wake them at night just to see them.’ It made my skin crawl, and he slammed the door shut. And then…” she was briefly cut off by the cheerful greetings in Russian as the professor came in to begin their class.

Class drifted by in a haze, and she felt exhausted when the utterance of Russian goodbyes were spoken. “Christine, hang tight for a minute,” Dr. Payne glanced up at Christine over the brim of her glasses. Christine’s friends motioned they’d wait for her outside in the quad. “Christine, you’re doing so incredibly well in this class and I hope you’ll be enrolling again in the fall. I’ve been really pleased with your progress.” A slight pause weighed heavily. “There is one thing we do need to discuss, and as your professor and also a woman, I need to express my concerns.”  _ Oh no… _ “You’ve been open with our small group about you and Kevin, and the few times we’ve spoken with him, he seems like a nice young man. However, he sent me an email very early this morning expressing some… concerns.”

“Concerns?” Christine was flabbergasted and flushed with embarrassment. “I don’t understand.” Students for another class were quickly entering the room.

“Concerns about your mental well-being and emotional health. He said you two have fallen on hard times and he’s concerned you might be overwhelmed with the death of your father and not having a strong support system at home. He wanted to reassure me, I suppose, that he’s concerned about you, and…”

“My dad has nothing to do with it. I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Christine angrily interrupted. “I’m sorry, Dr. Payne, that Kevin found it necessary to contact you. That was inappropriate. I broke up with him in January, and he hasn’t been exactly accepting it…”

“I thought as much, Christine, as I’ve been in that type of relationship before. Tread carefully and be mindful. I’m here if and when you need support. I will not respond to his email, but I am concerned more about this type of behavior.”

“Thank you, Dr. Payne.” Christine sucked in a breath to calm her racing heart and to bite down the tears which threatened to explode. Once outside the building, Christine erupted into the concerned arms of her classmates. “I can’t do this anymore. He yelled at me for over an hour, saying that I was selfish and that we shouldn’t be broken up. He even emailed Dr. Payne today! Like who DOES THAT!”

“Christine, you have to go to campus police. He can’t be doing this. Between his erratic behavior towards you, showing up at your apartment, always calling, and posting all that stuff online, you HAVE to tell campus police,” Jessica was adamant. “We’ll all go with you; you’re not alone.”

Christine’s feet froze in place as she stood before the cement stairs leading up to the entrance of campus police. Her heart pounded so hard her whole body throbbed and moved with every beat.  _ You have to do this… you’re not safe anymore. He broke his promise, you can’t trust him and he doesn’t love you _ . Inhaling a deep breath in resolve, Christine entered the building. “Um, hi, um, I need to, uh, report someone; h-his name is Kevin Trickman.”

Thirty minutes found Christine standing alone outside of campus police, visibly shaken and overwrought with sadness. It was done, public safety would open an investigation. And the first step was to gather evidence: she had to go back onto Kevin’s blog and print out every post he had made about her and present the evidence to the police.

* * *

_ Christine: January _

It was two weeks since Christine broke up with Kevin and ended the relationship. For the most part, things were quiet. Christine mentioned in passing to Nadir one weekend that she had broken up with Kevin, and Nadir couldn’t have been any happier and relieved. But the quietness and the steady routine of classes was abruptly interrupted.

After her excursion to Arizona and visiting the Lowell Observatory, Christine amended her schedule by dropping her music classes and enrolling instead for Intro to Astronomy and a Sketching 101 class instead. Her astronomy professor was a quirky and awkward newly-awarded PhD student whom Christine found endearing and relatable. Every Thursday evening there was Astronomy lab, which ran until 10:00PM those evenings. On this particular evening, Christine emerged from the planetarium with her eyes turned upward to the night sky, taking in clearly defined Orion’s belt and parts of Pegasus, but was confronted by a familiar voice.

“How was class?” Kevin purred. “Liking astronomy?” Christine stopped dead, her head snapping back to see Kevin stealthily approaching from behind.

“Kevin, what… What are you doing here? How did you know about my class?”  _ Oh my God, he remembered your student ID number and helped you reset your password in August. He got your course schedules. _ Panic coursed through her veins.

“Oh Chris, I only wanted to talk to you, seeing as how I can’t seem to get a hold of you anymore. Changed your phone number, then? It’s rather embarrassing when I can’t even contact my own girlfriend.”

“What? Kevin, I’m not your girlfriend; we’re not together. We broke up,” she quietly huffed.

“Is that what  _ WE  _ did? Because I only recall it’s something  _ YOU  _ said.  _ WE  _ didn’t agree to anything.” He moved closer, and Christine stumbled backwards as a menacing chuckle resounded from Kevin’s chest and he laced his fingers through a lock of her curls. 

_ Steel yourself _ . “Perhaps WE didn’t, but I did. WE ARE THROUGH. It’s over. Leave me alone!!”  _ RUN.  _ And pushed Kevin away and ran to catch the shuttle.  _ RUN.  _ She didn’t dare look out the window to see if Kevin pursued.  _ RUN.  _ Christine sprinted off the bus and leapt up the steps, quickly slamming the door closed and locking both the dead bolt and fastening the chain lock behind her.  _ RUN.  _ In her flurry of panic and without second guessing herself, she quickly packed up all her books, notebooks, and laptop and threw all her dirty laundry into a laundry bag, grabbed whatever food she had in the refrigerator and quickly loaded up her car.  _ RUN.  _ It was almost 11:00PM.  _ RUN _ . Within 20 minutes she was on the lonely highway, heading north to the house in the woods. _ Run and hide. He won’t find you there; run. _ The hour and a half drive was made in complete silence; there was no music, there was no singing, there was no contentment.  _ RUN.  _ Only panic.  _ RUN. _

* * *

_ Erik: January _

“Meg, I did as you advised with leaving a note.” Erik spoke nonchalantly as his fingers lightly blended the contours of  _ her  _ face sending his heart aflutter.

Meg shot up from her book and Raoul looked confused. “Well?” Dead silence. She threw a pen at him. “ERIK! Annnnnd….?” 

“And she has left me one in return.” Erik wasn’t exactly sure why he felt embarrassed; perhaps it was more of admitting that Meg was right. Her idea and plan had worked.

“Oh my God, annnnnnnd…?!”

“What are you two talking about?” chimed Raoul.

“Shh, not now, I need to hear this. Erik, what did it saaaaay?!” More silence. Meg grabbed Raoul’s pen and threw it at Erik.

“It said: your friend, Meg, is incredibly annoying. Find a new friend,” Erik flatly retorted but raised a mischievous eyebrow and smirked behind his sketchbook and flicked both pens back at Meg.

“Can someone please tell me what in the world you’re talking about?” Raoul grew annoyed. It was his last semester for his MBA with aspirations to go to law school after a year or two of working before taking on the new endeavor. He sometimes wondered how it was that he and Erik were such close friends coming from such different worlds - the world of law and the world of music, perhaps poetic justice? He chuckled to himself as he heard Erik begin explaining Meg’s well-executed plan.  _ Lord I love this girl _ .

“She is still a mystery to me,” Erik interrupted Raoul’s thoughts. “I remain questioning as to whether or not she is indeed real. She hasn’t returned to the music hall since the end of last semester, and I haven’t heard her voice. I have discovered, however, that her choices in her repertoire are often dependent on her mood. At Thanksgiving her voice was laced with anger. The weeks before that, sadness was covered with darkness. Everything has been opposite from the hopeful happiness from the first encounters with her voice.” Erik trailed off as he moved his long fingers along the lines of her face he had finished sketching.

“So what are you going to write next?” Raoul asked while looking at Meg, instantly connecting the dots and formulating a plan.  _ It’s time to encourage him to make a move and actually talk to her _ . Meg knew this look and simply winked at Raoul in a knowing confirmation.

* * *

_ Christine: February _

She couldn’t bring herself to go to the music building and play. Thoughts of Kevin nauseated her, and she didn’t dare enter the music building during normal hours as it was littered with Kevin’s frat brothers, his friends, and gossip. Christine had practically abandoned her apartment. She left immediately after her astronomy class every Thursday night to make the 90 minute drive back to the house in the woods and wouldn’t return until Monday morning before her first class. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell Nadir about the encounter with Kevin. She had disappointed him long enough throughout her relationship with Kevin to bring him into unnecessary drama which would certainly end soon. How mistaken she was.

“Marcus?” Christine looked up in just enough time to see Marcus walking towards her on his way to class one evening a few days later.

“Oh, uh, hey Chrissie, how are you? It’s been awhile. How’s your semester going?” 

“It’s fine, everything is fine. You never texted me your number. How are you?”

“Fine. Just really busy. Sorry I never texted you, kinda slipped my mind.”

“No, it’s ok. So, I guess maybe you might have heard?”

“Um, yeah, well, yeah I did. Sorry to hear about you and Kevin. Sounds like he’s not taking things well.”

“Wait, what? Have you talked to him?”

Marcus looked as if he were about to be sick. “Um, no, but he’s been, well, like, he’s been posting some blogs on his MySpace page. We’re connected and stuff on there and I don’t really go on much anymore, but just happened to stumble onto his page one night after studying and he posted something about you guys breaking up.” Christine fell quiet and didn’t move, feeling like her heart lurched into her throat.

“What’s his username?” Marcus shook his head in apprehensive. “Marcus, what’s his damn username?” Christine demanded. Marcus pulled out his phone and handed it to Christine to enter her phone number. He texted her the username. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“N-not really.” He was lying.

“Marcus, tell me. Please…” panic started setting in.

“He’s just been going around to his frat brothers about the break-up. It’s nothing bad, I guess he just needs someone to talk to and listen.”

“Yeah right. Whatever crap he’s saying isn’t true. Remember, there’s two sides to every story and they’re getting only his version. Don’t be like them, Marcus.” And she stormed off to catch the shuttle to her apartment. Again, Christine found herself sprinting off the bus and leaping up the stairs into her apartment. Violently throwing her backpack onto the floor, she opened her laptop and brought up Kevin’s blog.  _ Oh God, no _ . Her eyes raced through sentence after sentence after sentence. “She doesn’t know how to be part of a family because she has no one in her life who loves and supports her…”  _ Well what about Nadir; he’s my godfather! _ “I’m concerned for her emotional well being; she’s been frantic and physically sick for a while, but she refuses to admit she needs help, let alone ask for it…”  _ It was the flu, ass hole, not a cancer diagnosis! _ “And sometimes I wonder if she was sexually abused at sometime in her childhood because she would almost cringe and tremble at me wanting just to gently hold her hand…”  _ WHAT?! Oh my God. _ A knock on the door tore her eyes off the screen.

In her fury of anger, she didn’t look through the peephole to see who it was and instead threw open the door in a furious, “WHAT?!?” Kevin. He was here, standing before her, his chest heaving with anger. They hadn’t spoken for three weeks, but somehow, momentum had shifted and Christine soon faced more danger than she could have ever fathomed.

“Where the fuck have you been? You change your phone number in hopes that you don’t have to talk to me like a grown adult? You’re being selfish… what makes you think we’re better off not being together? You really think YOU are better off without me? You are nothing without us, without me… no one understands you like I do; no one loves you or will ever love you as much as me. How can you possibly think breaking up is ever an option?” Kevin’s voice was rapidly changing from semi-calm to snarling, almost venomous. Christine stood there shaking behind the apartment door.

“Kevin, you need to leave. I’ve told you over and over that it’s done, I’m done… I don’t want to be with you anymore. There is no more us - you need to let this go and accept it; let me go,” her voice was cracking and breaking, the fear she attempted to push down into her gut rapidly bubbling to the surface, leaving her trembling as she tried to force Kevin from the doorway. “Kevin, you’re scaring me and if you don’t leave, I’m calling campus security.” With that threat, Kevin flew into a rage and barreled through the door, forcing his way in. His anger palpable and menacing.

“You don’t EVER threaten me!!” he growled and grabbed Christine's cell phone and smashed it to the ground.

“Hey man, what the hell are you doing?!” rang out another male voice from across the breezeway of the apartment building. “Dude, you better get outta here or I’m calling the police. Threaten me man, go ahead.” Christine saw a rather large, burly young man, probably one of the university football players or lacrosse players who was the one throwing the parties every Thursday and Friday, coming up the stairs in the breezeway.

Kevin got in Christine’s face, mere inches from her nose, anger coursing through his body. “This isn’t over Christine; don’t you dare think it is. You’ll be sorry you did this.” Kevin stormed off, leaving Christine visibly shaken.

“Um, yeah, hey, you alright?” asked the young man. “What was the about?” He was puzzled but didn’t seem overly concerned.

“It’s fine. I’m, uh, I guess, yeah I’m ok. Thanks for stepping in. Sorry to disturb you.” Christine quickly retreated back into her apartment and bolted the door shut, crumbling immediately onto the floor, gasping with sobs.  _ I have to get out of here. Home, I want to go home. But where IS home anymore? Who is my home?  _

She wasn’t quite sure how long she lay on the floor, but she awoke to find herself wrapped in complete darkness. Picking herself off the floor, her hands pushed against the broken pieces of her cell phone.  _ Kevin _ . She felt numb and lost as she mindlessly wandered into her room.

She didn’t have the courage to tell Nadir what was happening, she just couldn’t. She was an adult and adults handle their problems, but he needed to know. Enough was enough. She sat at her laptop, staring blankly at the empty body of an email with a subject line simply stating: “You were right - I’m so sorry”. The cursor on the screen blinked methodically at her, her vision blurring behind the tears welling in her eyes as she typed a brief message to Nadir.  _ I’ll be over tomorrow. I’m scared and I need you and I’m so sorry for everything _ . A small voice she thought that had almost abandoned her during these past few weeks since breaking things off with Kevin began to speak…  _ Music, Christine, music… go, play, sing, find release. _ Almost mechanically, Christine grabbed a stack of sheet music and music books, packed up her laptop, and headed for the only place on campus she felt she could breathe and be free and feel safe. And it was a place she knew she could hear  _ his voice _ .

The cold night air bit and numbed her skin, her cheeks flushed against the painfully cold wind as she unlocked the car. Time was obsolete, non-existent within her world this night. That still small voice whispered assuredly that peace and comfort and refuge would greet her and welcome her. Of how, she couldn’t piece together, but one thing was sure:  _ him _ . Christine parked in the garage near the music building, the entire campus and the small town of Western Cypress were enveloped in complete silence, hunkering down against the brutal coldness of the world outside. 

Her feet felt heavier than usual and the halls were painfully quiet. Not a sound could be heard. Christine stood in the doorway of her favorite practice room, hesitant to enter, reluctant to make music that would echo in the night.  _ Play, sing, find release _ . That small voice beckoned her towards the piano as she sat, resting her hands on the keys, stroking them in reverence and began playing her father’s favorite. Her “Vocalise” tonight was soft, dark, and heavy; the low chords bellowing a song of longing, of direction, of guidance. Her voice cracked in pain as she began feeling drops of tears dotting her hands, her fingers fumbling through the chords. And there, during a crescendo of pain, her voice was overtaken by the sound and pull of a violin’s strings. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief.  _ He’s here; he’s here _ .

* * *

_ Erik: February _

Another week passed and Erik craved her voice. It had been too long, and he wondered when he would hear her next. On this night, Erik was restless. He laid in bed, fidgeting, unable to lay still as he listened to the branches scratching at the window, begging for relief and refuge from the biting cold. It was late, and all was still and quiet and calm. But he couldn’t quiet the incessant whisper in his mind beckoning him to create. Something rattled his soul on this night, something pulling him out of the warmth of his bed and into the shuttering coldness of the world outside.  _ Find her. _ With resolve and without question, Erik pulled on his coat, newsboy cap, and scarf, grabbed his violin, and navigated his way to the music building. The heavy doors creaked open and immediately slammed shut by the wind behind him. “Jesus, wow…” Erik whispered rather startled and took his first few footsteps towards his practice room. And there, here and now, was her voice. Oh that sweet voice and the ring of dark chords of Rachmaninoff echoing through the halls.  _ She’s here _ . 

The closer he drew, the more his heart pounded in his chest. He could feel his pulse swelling into his throat, barely swallowing it down to calm this feeling coursing through his veins. He saw her at the piano, noticing immediately how much her aura had changed since their last wordless encounter. She looked so defeated, but the light he saw from within her was still shining. He stepped into his practice room, took out his violin, and sat down to listen to her, to take in her voice. Tonight she sang with such sadness Erik felt his heart break, and suddenly he heard it: the cracking of her voice followed by quiets gasps through tears.  _ Finish it _ . And he raised his bow to the violin’s strings with a promise to raise her up from the depths of her dark despair.  _ You’ve inspired me for so long; be inspired by me, my angel _ .

* * *

_ Together: February _

As many times before, their last notes rang through the halls, leaving the pair breathless with the music they created. Without a thought, Erik began to play Cinema Paradiso as Christine sat and listened, a feeling of hope and warmth filled her spirit like nothing had before. All she ever wanted in this life was given to her through his music, she craved it, she needed it. And in this moment, she felt like this musical stranger was the only one who understood her, the only friend she could count on. As inconsistent their chance meetings were, the small moments would ingrain into Christine a guiding beacon of hope and restoration which she wouldn’t fully come to grasp until a soon defining moment that would forever change her life. Her body swayed with every crescendo and she felt a small smile grace her face. And as they had done before, it was now Christine’s turn to answer Erik with music in return. Tonight she wanted to speak to him, to tell him, and with her song, Erik felt a shift, knowing tonight would change everything.

_ All those arrows you threw, you threw them away.  
_ _ You kept falling in love, and then one day.  
_ _ When you fell, you fell towards me.  
_ _ When you crashed in the clouds, you found me. _

Erik felt her pleading; she wanted him to join her. Their two voices became one, Erik’s dark baritone was light with harmonizing and Christine’s voice grew darker and sensual, inviting him into her soul.

_ Oh, please don’t go.  
_ _ I want you so.  
_ _ I can’t let go.  
_ _ For I lose control. _

_ Get these left handed lovers out of your way.  
_ _ They look hopeful but you, you should not stay.  
_ _ If you want me to break down and give you the keys.  
_ _ I can do that but I can’t let you leave. _

Piano chords getting heavier and Erik filled in with his strings, while his and Christine’s voices married, becoming entwined.

_ Oh, please don’t go.  
_ _ I want you so.  
_ _ I can’t let go.  
_ _ For I lose control. _

It was instinct; every note, every chord, every dynamic was made as one. They followed each other’s lead as their dance came to a quiet close. They sat breathless, neither daring to move or speak. The silence laid heavy between them as Erik wanted to serenade her more. Laying down his violin, he placed his hands on the keys and began playing a sweetened lullaby, Serenade by Shubert. Christine found herself penning a note to slip through the door of Erik’s practice room before he could finish his serenade. And she wrote a note.

She slipped the note through the crack in the practice room door and caught a glimpse of Erik’s form again lost in the music.  _ I wonder what he looks like? _ Christine felt butterflies begging for release at the thought of perhaps one day finding the courage to talk to him. She watched him, every movement caught in the music which poured from his soul. He was mesmerizing as his long, slender fingers danced along the keys. This felt like the first time that she truly saw him at his most vulnerable, and he was stunning. His movements as he lost himself in the music, and she felt a flutter deeper within her core. Her heart lurched in her chest with a feeling she couldn’t quite understand. This feeling ran so much deeper; this feeling of needing air to breathe, yearning for survival and life. What she felt was so different than that night when she confessed a supposed love for Kevin. Somehow thoughts of Kevin and everything that had unfurled since August came flooding into her thoughts and she felt she was drowning. A whimper escaped her mouth as she noticed him begin to turn towards the door, somehow feeling she was there watching.

Erik didn’t see her, but he heard the quickness of her running away down the hall and suddenly heard the doors slam shut. The light illuminated the piece of paper neatly folded, laying in wait. He picked up the note and read: 

_ The rain to the wind said,  
_ _ ‘You push and I’ll pelt,’  
_ _ They so smote the garden bed.  
_ _ That the flowers actually knelt,  
_ _ And lay lodged--though not dead.  
_ _ I know how the flowers felt.  
_ _ Lodged” by Robert Frost _

_ Despite everything happening with my life, you are keeping my soul alive. I can’t find the courage yet, but for now, I’ll be here the same time every Thursday night. -C _

Erik found his fingers tracing over her handwriting.  _ I’ll be here… _

The promise of making music together both excited and terrified Christine and Erik. Their chance meetings late at night would no longer be on a whim, but now a solid engagement with a promise of safety in anonymity. No expectations spoken or wanted, just the feeling of finding respite with another soul of understanding. And so the pair continued for the remaining two weeks of February, each playing individually followed by instrumental duets and witnessing the marriage of voice and instrument. Despite having a newfound safe haven, Christine continued collapsing inward, latching onto the darkness of her circumstances. They fell into an unspoken routine, of Christine departing as Erik played his departing serenade. Upon her arrival each Thursday, a new note would greet her. And upon his departure, Erik would find a responsive missive. It was the only routine that brought Christine any solace in her circumstances.

* * *

_ Christine: March  
_ The month passed along at an agonizingly slow pace. Christine was drowning. The stress, however, began taking its toll and it showed. Her grades slipped, she wasn’t eating and lost weight, becoming bone thin, her eyes were sunken in with the fitful, restless nights, and more often than not, the complete lack of sleep. The only time Christine felt any sort of physical respite was during hot showers; but even then, the clumps and strands of hair would tangle around her fingers and clog the drain. The only saving grace was Erik - only his voice and his music could bring nourishment to her soul. For the past four weeks, she would play and sing with her musical friend, falling ever deeper with such intensity into a world of yearning and craving, of consuming desire. She found herself sketching furiously the contour on his broad shoulders, his long fingers, the way his dark hair falling in wandering loose strands underneath an ever endearing newsboy cap.

The month, however, was riddled with despair, as Kevin remained the ever present thistle and thorn. He continued to post about her online. She didn’t want to read his blogs, but a pull in her told her to be smart, save them, print them out and keep them just in case.

It was the evening of Wednesday, March 31st, spring break around the corner and the end of the semester quickly approaching. Christine sat in the living room of her apartment, sorting her sheet music and deciding on pieces to play for the next evening with her musical accomplice. It was nearly midnight when she decided to clean up and head to bed. But then, knocking on her door. “Christine?!” Kevin. “Christine, open the door.” She knew it was useless to turn off the light and creep into her bedroom, but it was worth a try. She climbed into bed without even putting on her pajamas, her racing beating out of her chest, her rapid breathing causing her to sweat. Suddenly,  _ tink _ . What was that sound?  _ Tink, tink, tink _ . Again and again and again, something hitting her window.  _ Tink, tink _ . She couldn’t believe it as she peaked through her blinds to see Kevin standing under her window, throwing stones to get her attention.

A few seconds of silence.  _ Pound, pound, pound _ on the door. “Christine? CHRISTINE?”  _ Pound, pound, pound, pound _ . “Christine, OPEN THE DOOR! CHRISTINE!”  _ POUND, POUND, POUND _ . He wasn’t going to leave, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that ignoring him would fix everything. “CHRISTINE! OPEN THE DOOR!”  _ POUND, POUND, POUND, POUND _ . She couldn’t figure out what was pounding harder: Kevin’s fists on the door or her heart beating out of her chest. She opened the door. “Most women would find this romantic, Christine. Every girl I know would love to have their boyfriend wake them at night just to see them,” Kevin said as he pushed his way in and slammed the door. Christine flinched, cowering into the corner. “You just had to run to your precious Uncle Nadir, didn’t you?! Poor little Christine, helpless and weak and incapable of being an adult, running to her uncle for help. Next time that so called uncle of yours emails me and threatens me, perhaps I should go to the police and report YOU for character defamation. Mouthing off to your little friends, gossiping, spreading lies. Maybe I’ll have the cops go to Nadir’s apartment and have them open an investigation against him for threatening me. Real classy guy you got there in your life, Christine! You should choose your associates more carefully. You are being SELFISH!” He punched the wall and Christine let out a welp of shock and fear, cowering further into the corner, crumbling onto the floor. Kevin bent down and lifted her chin with a hard finger. “Trust me on this one, Christine - I’m not to be messed it,” he seethed. Towering over her, he turned to leave and slammed the door behind him.

She stayed on the floor, wanting, wishing to disappear. She needed to get away, she needed something,  _ someone _ to help her.  _ He won’t be there tonight _ . But in her resolve, she grabbed her keys and headed to her car. Her tears were flowing freely and her cries were harsh as she internally swore in anger and exhaustion. She pulled up to the music building and pushed the hazard lights on. She entered the building, note in hand, and made her way down the empty hallways. She stopped as she heard the piano ringing out in reverence to Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2, the second movement. The adagio of the light treble arpeggios wrapped themselves around her as the notes pulled her feet to move closer and closer still until she stood outside the door, tears falling as they dotted the folded note in her hand. Before she could second guess herself, she pulled out her pen and wrote an additional note before sliding it under the door and heading to her apartment.

* * *

_ Erik: March  
_ Nothing made Erik feel more inspired and more hopeful than Thursday nights making music with  _ her _ . The notes they would leave one another meant more to him than anything else in the world. These past few weeks left Erik breathless and desperate for more. Tonight he was picking through pieces he wanted to play for her and chose Rachmaninoff. She always opened with “Vocalise” and he drew his inspiration from her choices. After the closing note of the second movement of the concerto dissipated, Erik turned to stretch and noticed a piece of paper by the door.  _ Was she here? _ He looked out into the hallway and heard nothing but silence. And ever so carefully, he unfolded the note. Tonight, she signed her name; she wanted him to know her.

_ “Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.” - A Moveable Feast, Hemingway _

_ I came here tonight hardly knowing the reason why, and then I heard you playing Rachmaninoff. I needed to hear you tonight. Things are changing, and I don’t know what to do. I just… thank you for everything. Until tomorrow. -Christine _

“Christine…” he whispered, her name a melody and song upon his lips. “Christine.”

* * *

_ Together: April _

Thursday night came quickly, and after her astronomy class was dismissed, Christine carefully navigated her way to the music building once again. The day had been born of more strength after she had finally reported Kevin to campus police. Christine replayed her meeting with campus police over and over. She had taken all the printed out blog postings from Kevin’s page and handed them over to the police. Officer Kavelik was officially assigned to her case when she had handed over the files. “I’ll call Kevin this afternoon, and bring him in to discuss these and the case and serve him a hard warning,” he reassured her. “I’m sure this will go away quietly, so I don’t think you have much to fret.”

Again Christine found herself walking down the familiar hallway, to the rundown corridor which held their practice rooms. She smiled tenderly as she noticed a note on her piano, written in the endearing penmanship she started to read.

_ All the words that I gather,  
_ _ And all the words that I write,  
_ _ Must spread out their wings untiring,  
_ _ And never rest in their flight,  
_ _ Till they come where your sad,  
_ _ Sad heart is,  
_ _ And sing to you in the night,  
_ _ Beyond where the waters are moving,  
_ _ Storm darkened or starry bright.  
_ _ W.B. Yeats _

_ Darling mockingbird, I am sorry your heart grows heavy and weary. There will always be a spring. -Erik _

“Erik…” she whispered, his name a melody and song upon her lips. “Erik.”

Erik stood completely still, hand clutching his heart fluttering at the sound of his name whispered from his angel’s lips. Tonight Christine changed the routine, tonight she prepared something closer to her heart. With just her voice, she began to sing:

_ Once upon another time  
_ _ Somebody's hands who felt like mine  
_ _ Turned the key and took a drive  
_ _ Was free _

_ I recall the sun sank low  
_ _ Buckley on the radio  
_ _ Cigarette was burning slow  
_ _ So breathe _

_ Just yellow lines and tire marks  
_ _ Sun-kissed skin and handlebars  
_ _ And where I stood was where I was  
_ _ To be _

_ No enemies to call my own  
_ _ No porch light on to pull me home  
_ _ And where I was is beautiful  
_ _ Because I was free  
_

_ Once upon another time  
_ _ Before I knew which life was mine  
_ _ Before I left the child behind  
_ _ Me _

_ I saw myself in summer nights  
_ _ And stars lit up like candle lights  
_ _ I made my wish but mostly I  
_ _ Believed _

_ And yellow lines and tire marks  
_ _ Sun-kissed skin and handlebars  
_ _ And where I stood was where I was  
_ _ To be _

_ Once upon another time  
_ _ Deciding nothing good in dying  
_ _ So I would just keep on driving  
_ __ Because I was free


	11. Lost & Found

**Chapter 11: Lost & Found**

_ Because I was free. _

The last line echoed sentiments of liberation and release. Tears once again stained her cheeks. “I’m so tired of crying,” she huffed out in an exasperated sigh. Erik startled, realizing she was speaking to him. Did she want him to acknowledge and offer up words of empty reassurance? He fidgeted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, frantically searching for the words to speak. “You don’t have to say anything, it’s ok. I just, I don’t know, just wanted to feel… something. Something that didn’t feel like I was caged or trapped. Have you ever felt that way before? That everything was so out of your control and someone trapped you?” Memories from his childhood flooded his mind and his heart began racing. “My dad promised me that everything would be ok, but I simply can’t believe that now. Everything has changed, nothing is the same, and I wish he was still here.” A slight pause followed by another sigh. “I’m so tired of crying. I’m tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of feeling. I’m just...” Christine let out another exasperated sigh, “tired...” 

Erik shifted his weight uncomfortably. Something about her words conjured up the ruthlessness of his childhood, of Mother, the smell of alcohol, the painful cigar burns from unwelcome visitors, the beatings, the sheer cruelty. Of the metal fire poker held firmly in his hands as he extended his arms upward and smashed it down hard upon the man’s flesh…  _ No, no, no, not now; oh God, not now. Why now?! Shove it out of your brain, Erik; shut if off, turn it off! _ It was too late, the floodgates burst open. Why did her words rip open the wounds of a past he had for so long stuffed away into the darkened depths of his soul?  _ Oh God, please not now, oh please no more. Stop talking, stop talking!! _ His hands trembled, nausea coursing through his veins. He wanted to speak, he wanted to go to her, to sit with her, to simply BE with her. He wanted to tell her everything about his past - his hurts, his pains, his loves, his admiration for her. But how could he be someone for her to confide in and lean on when he couldn’t even push through his past? There was only one person who knew his story. He had confided in Raoul and it was done at such a dark time shortly after they had met. And Raoul was sworn to secrecy, even Meg wasn’t to know.

The tinkling of piano keys and the sound of her voice broke Erik from his internal warfare. God on earth, how could one person have such an affect on him?

_ You say you wander your own land  
_ _ But when I think about it  
_ _ I don't see how you can _

_ You're aching, you're breaking  
_ _ And I can see the pain in your eyes  
_ _ Says everybody's changing  
_ _ And I don't know why _

_ So little time  
_ _ Try to understand that I'm  
_ _ Trying to make a move just to stay in the game  
_ _ I try to stay awake and remember my name  
_ _ But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same _

“You know my heart,” Erik whispered. He was held captive.

_ You're gone from here  
_ _ Soon you will disappear  
_ _ Fading into beautiful light  
_ _ 'Cause everybody's changing  
_ _ And I don't feel right _

_ So little time  
_ _ Try to understand that I'm  
_ _ Trying to make a move just to stay in the game  
_ _ I try to stay awake and remember my name  
_ _ But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same _

“I want to disappear,” he silently confessed.

_ So little time  
_ _ Try to understand that I'm  
_ _ Trying to make a move just to stay in the game  
_ _ I try to stay awake and remember my name  
_ _ But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same  
_ _ Everybody's changing and I don't feel the same. _

The quiet stillness of the night enveloped itself around Erik and Christine. Erik silently wept as Christine’s eyes grew heavier and heavier with exhaustion as she rested her head into her hands. The intimacy of this moment would be etched in their memories for weeks to come. Erik reached for a pen and paper, his tears dotting the paper in his hands. Folding it in half, he pulled his tall frame up to stand, grabbed his belongings, and peered around the threshold into the room where Christine sat. He watched her, listened to her breathing. She looked oddly peaceful despite everything she must have been going through. “Good night, my angel,” he whispered as he slid his note along the floor. Christine inhaled deeply as the smell of earl grey tea and ivory soap reached her nose. Her eyes opened to meet the folded paper on the floor. A light flutter of hope filled her and as she read, her fingers gently traced the wet splashes of Erik’s tears:

_ “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy . . . but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” - To Kill A Mockingbird. _

_ Your heart is heavy with grief and sadness; you’re not broken. Your soul is such a beautiful thing, and I would hate to see anyone try to destroy it. I am so sorry you are hurting. _

_ Yours, Erik _

* * *

“I kinda met someone,” Christine quietly stated while making a mock cornfield in her leveled mashed potatoes and blushed.

Nadir was a little taken aback and fumbled his fork. “Oh, um, ok… anything else you want to share?”

Christine blushed even more. “Well, I haven’t really met him really, more like, exchanged notes, and um…” God this was embarrassing.

Nadir chuckled. “Notes? Letters? More?”

“More,” she managed to muffle out into her mashed potato cornfield before lining up individual peas as the designated crop. “He… I mean  _ we _ shared music.” Nadir stilled. 

“Wait, I’m confused.”

At this Christine decided to take the plunge and shared what all had transpired within the past handful of months between her and this anonymous acquaintance. By the time she wrapped up her story, a smile became a little bit more of a semi-permanent fixture upon her usually saddened face.

“Christine, I’m concerned. Are you sure he’s not running in the same music circles as Kevin? I’d hate to see this as some royally screwed up, elaborate bait and switch. That certainly wouldn’t be beneath that idiot.”

“I’m positive, there’s no way someone like Erik would ever associate with someone like Kevin. Erik is tender, kind, patient, and I’m fall-...” her words abruptly stopped.  _ Falling in love with him _ .  _ No, you can’t be; it’s not… you don’t know him. You’ve never even met him _ . Nadir looked curiously at Christine with a hesitant yet knowing smirk.

“Just be careful?” he pleaded with her. “I don’t want to see you hurt again, especially after all this stuff with Kevin.”

“I know,” she whispered as she resumed building her mashed potato, pea-lined cornfield.

* * *

“And you didn’t introduce yourself or say anything in return?” Raoul asked.

Erik’s shoulders rounded inward even further with defeat. “No, how could I? Have you forgotten  _ this _ ?” bringing his hand up to his mask. “Besides what could I have possibly said to make things any better for her? Nothing.”

Erik had a fitful night after leaving the music building. He couldn’t quiet his mind and the memories infiltrating what sleep he could find. Later that morning he had called Raoul to come over. “I wanted to tell her everything, I wanted to talk to her. But how can I, of all people, be a pillar strong enough to support her when I can’t even come to terms with my past? How…?” his voice trailed off in defeat.

“You know what I’m going to say, and I know how you’re going to react. Your aversion towards faith for healing…”

“You’re right and so we won’t be pursuing that again.”

“Of course,” Raoul said. “So what happens next and where do you go from here?”

Erik let out an exhaustive sigh and buried his face into his hands. “I have no idea.” A knock came at the front door. Of course it would be Meg.

“So the way I see it, you should meet after your recital in just a few weeks. It’ll be finals week. Leave a note saying to meet you at 5:00PM on the very last day of finals, play a duet, chat for a little bit, exchange phone numbers or email or WHATEVER, then leave. It’s that simple, Erik.” Meg walked right in without even a hello, like she knew exactly what was happening. “Just do it!” Raoul said as he pushed a notepad and pen in front of Erik. “No turning back now.”

“But I leave for New York that weekend. How could I possibly…?”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what email and phone numbers are for.” Raoul pushed the notepad and pen again into Erik’s hands. “You can do this. You are obviously falling in love with her and from the sounds of it, she just might be as well, Erik.”

Meg sat down next to Raoul and grabbed Erik’s hand. “It’s time, Erik. You can do this,” she quietly said, squeezing his hand in encouragement with a smile.

* * *

The next two weeks greeted Christine with new furious onslaughts from Kevin. The blog postings became increasingly more agitated, more venomous, more ominous. And Christine painfully read through each one, then printing them out, and handing them over to campus police. Again, they brought him in to issue him a second warning to cease and desist. Pride is the devil’s playground. There was only a brief lull over a weekend when things came to a head.

By Thursday after her last afternoon class, Christine welcomed some downtime before her astronomy class later that evening. As she rode the shuttle bus to her apartment on south campus, Christine let the late spring sunshine warm her face through the window while placing random doodles and sketches in her notebook. It really was a beautiful day, and it had been a quiet weekend with no Kevin. And tonight, she decided that she would introduce herself to Erik. Tonight was the night. Tonight, she’d find the courage to simply say hello. Tonight, she hoped and prayed for the strength to ask him for a duet. Her serenity was short-lived.

“Chris,” her name clipped short by a familiar, nauseating voice that seemed to haunt her every waking moment. “We need to talk.” And she felt the grip of fingers wrap around her arm and push her into the passenger seat of his car. Kevin. “So, campus police, huh? Really? What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just talk to me like an adult. You’re so childish and immature. I’m so sick and tired of you playing the victim here. What about me? My reputation? What the hell, Chris?!” His voice escalated to a deafening volume.

“Kevin, leave. NOW. Go home, go wherever it is that you go. But go somewhere far away from me.” Christine didn’t have any more strength to yell.  _ What’s the point anymore? Just go away and leave me alone. _

The pounding of a fist onto the steering wheel broke her out of her thoughts.

“LEAVE?! Far away from you?! That’s not how this works. I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

She gave in. She sat there as he screamed obscenities at her, about her, about Nadir, about her father. He ventured into their most intimate moments, about what she felt like to him, what she felt like under him… it made her skin crawl. She felt dirty.

“Enough! I’m getting out of this car and you are LEAVING!” she screamed at the top of lungs as she shoved him away and ran into her apartment. Her chest heaving with gasping breaths. She wanted to cry, she wanted to let it out, but the tears wouldn’t come. There was nothing left. Instead, she threw herself onto her bed and screamed at the top of her lungs into her pillows. She screamed until her throat burned, she yelled until her voice completely gave out, and she cursed Kevin until there was nothing left unsaid. 

Trembling, she grabbed her backpack and trekked back to campus. Her feet leading her off the shuttle bus, down the tree-lined street. She stopped dead outside of campus police and swallowed the burning in her throat and entered the building. “I need to speak with Officer Kovacik please. It’s an emergency.” The receptionist dialed the phone, and within minutes Office Kovacik appeared.

“Son of a bitch, are you serious?! What did Kevin do now?” and escorted Christine back into his office.

* * *

**_11:45 PM, Thursday, April 15, 2004_ **

Barreling down the hallway, composition and music books clutched to her chest, Christine tried to catch her breath as she made her way to her favorite practice room in the far corner of the music building, away from everything, away from everyone, away from the memories of him. The late evening hours on campus were too quiet for comfort, too much stillness. While other college students were studying, sleeping, or out at the bars partying, Christine was in her practice room, no matter how late. Some nights were so unnerving, where memories flooded her quiet apartment and the loneliness was achingly painful, that she’d run to the practice rooms to fill her senses with music. “Vocalise” was the saving piece that she could sit down and make her own. And on nights like this one, being able to pound through the robust, dark, aching chords on the piano gave expression to wordless thoughts and feelings. But there was something about this night, knowing that it was all over for good, gave her a small glimpse into hope and into peace once again. Tonight, she wanted to give “Vocalise” a chance to lull her into calm, into relief, and to finally let her guard down a little more. And as she laid out the music, lightly caressing the keys under her small hands and trembling fingers, the opening chords gently came to life in almost a lullaby. Her fingers danced along the keys, eyes closed. There it was again - the sigh of violin strings, quietly playing the vocal lines but this time harmonizing with her. That feeling of an inexplicable presence enveloped her heart as the notes from piano and violin and voice alike wrapped around her like a weighted blanket of comfort. Something about that violin, and sometimes his voice he would choose to share, had somehow sought out the music she played, yearning for an accompaniment; that sound, haunting and beautiful… who was playing?  _ Erik _ . Who would be here so late at night?  _ Erik _ . Who sought and ached for an accompaniment?  _ Erik _ . Who else yearned for another understanding soul?  _ Erik _ . Who else could crave music like her… with her?  _ Erik _ .

**_Earlier that day.._ ** .

Campus police did everything they could do, and when Kevin refused to give up and kept posting those horrific things online and after the incident this afternoon, Officer James Kovacik finally had to hammer home one last solution, “There is only one more warning we can issue, Christine. This is what needs to happen: you have to write up a statement, threatening that the case will be handed over to the state police for additional actions, and…”

“Additional actions? What does that mean?”

“It means Kevin will be arrested and charges will be formally filed against him. Possible court dates and maybe even jail time for him.”

“No, no… that’s not… No, I can’t do that to him. Despite everything, I didn’t… I don’t want him to not continue on with life, to graduate, to get a good job. That’s not what I want for him, for all that to not be achievable for him.”

“Christine, you’re out of options right now, and there’s not much else we can do here except that.”

Christine stared Officer Kovacik in the eyes with aching defeat, “What do I have to do?”

“You have to write a statement to read in front of him…” Her eyes widened in absolute panic and she felt her heart hurl into your throat. “...you’re not going to be alone. I will be sitting next to you, and the other officers will be out front as a precaution. You will read him the statement, saying you will file formal charges if his actions and his online blogging do not stop. Once your statement is read, I will escort him to the front of the office and he will be told to leave campus.”

“And then… will it be over… for good?”

“If he knows what’s good for him and his future, then yes.” 

And what felt like a blink of an eye, it was over. It was done. Kevin got up from the chair, glared at both Christine and Officer Kovacik, and walked out to the front office area. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, opened it up, and dramatically pulled out two pictures of engagement rings and violently threw them onto the floor. And he was gone… “What happened - what did he do? Did he say anything…?” Christine asked, choking on the knot in her throat. James didn’t elaborate but looked relieved, “It’s over, Christine. I’ll come to check on you after my shift is over later this afternoon. The guys confirmed Kevin left campus pretty quickly. I don’t think you’ll hear from him anymore - your statement was what he needed to hear. Take a breath. You did good.”

_ It’s over. I can finally breathe again… _

* * *

**_12:20 AM, Friday, April 16, 2004_ **

_ I have to meet him. I just have to _ . Christine tried to search for the courage to open the door and wander into the next room and meet her mysterious music companion. But how to find the courage? Tonight, in the solitude of this huge building, she knew what she wanted to sing. She opened the practice room door a little wider, and taking a deep and steady breath, Christine shifted on the piano bench and began playing, the words began to spill into a breathy, dark alto:

_ When the dark wood fell before me.  
_ _ And all the paths were overgrown.  
_ _ When the priests of pride say there is no other way.  
_ _ I tilled the sorrows of stone. _

_ I did not believe because I could not see.  
_ _ Though you came to me in the night.  
_ _ When the dawn seemed forever lost.  
_ _ You showed me your love in the light of the stars. _

_ Cast your eyes on the ocean.  
_ _ Cast your soul to the sea.  
_ _ When the dark night seems endless.  
_ _ Please, remember me. _

_ Then the mountain rose before me.  
_ _ By the deep well of desire.  
_ _ From the fountain of forgiveness.  
_ _ Beyond the ice and the fire. _

_ Cast your eyes on the ocean.  
_ _ Cast your soul to the sea.  
_ _ When the dark night seems endless.  
_ _ Please, remember me. _

_ Though we share this humble path, alone.  
_ _ How fragile is the heart.  
_ _ Oh give these clay feet wings to fly.  
_ _ To touch the face of the stars. _

_ Breathe life into this feeble heart.  
_ _ Lift this mortal veil of fear.  
_ _ Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears.  
_ _ We'll rise above these earthly cares. _

… wait, when did her voice harmonize? It was a voice, HIS voice, her musical companion…  _ Don’t stop singing, Christine… don’t stop singing, listen to him! _ And the chills prickled her skin and sent a thrilling shiver down her spine.

_ Cast your eyes on the ocean.  
_ _ Cast your soul to the sea.  
_ _ When the dark night seems endless.  
_ _ Please, remember me...  
_ _ Please, remember me... _

The last phrase hung quiet, her eyes closed as she attempted to work up the courage to go into Erik’s practice room and finally meet him. A slight brushing sound, the sound of paper sliding under the door, forced her eyes open in time to see the shadow of a figure backing away from her practice room. Before she could stop herself and her new found gumption, Christine leapt off the piano bench and practically tripped over her own two feet, stumbling into the hallway. And there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was this towering, lingering, mysterious figure, wearing… a mask?! He stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up, nearly dropping his violin case, his messenger bag awkwardly swinging around his body.

“I’m s-so-sorry… Erik? Why…? Are you…? Oh my God...” She blurted it out in a muffled gasp and she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her when his blue eyes met hers. Her eyes immediately widened with panic as they focused only on his mask.  _ A mask? Why?  _

His hands shot up to his face in absolute panic and fright.  _ Oh God, no! _ Nothing but clipped, short consonant sounds stuttered from his mouth.  _ Oh God, your face. Run. Hide, oh God no _ . “Voice… singing… I can’t… I’m sorry!” Every word was a fumbled mess as he sped away from her with a stride matching the gallop of a race horse, his long, slender legs quickly carrying his mysterious body along.

“W-wait! Erik! I’m sorry, oh God, I’m sorry!” But he was gone. Christine crumbled onto the floor in tears.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why? _ Christine felt completely breathless as the scent of antiqued wood of his violin, honey, and earl grey tea wafted from the room he had emerged from.  _ Please come back. _ She shifted her weight on the cold, hard floor, harshly wiping away the tears. “Damn it!” she cursed into the void. “DAMN IT!” As her clenched fist hit the door, it slid open revealing the note Erik had slipped under just moments before.

* * *

**_Sunday Afternoon, April 25, 2004_ **

Christine sat contemplatively in her favorite oversized armchair, a worn down sketchbook hidden in her lap, propped up against her legs. The face on the blank white paper started taking on its form and life. Christine’s flushed brightly as she glided her dainty fingers along the lines and contours of the mask hiding the face of him. Nadir glanced over the brim of his mug, his glasses fogging up from the hot steam and smirked every-so-slightly at Christine’s flushed face. She caught Nadir’s playful twinkle in his eyes and smacked the sketchbook closed. 

“God, Nadir, I was such an idiot. I should’ve let it go and not ruined it. It’s been a week, and I still haven’t been able to figure out who the heck he is; but what breaks my heart the most is that I think I completely ruined whatever music was growing between us. I don’t even know him and all I want is to hear him again! UGH! So damn stupid… acting like a petulant, stupid child!!” She buried her embarrassed face into her hands.

Christine let out an exasperated sigh. “I screwed up. I stood there gawking like he was a circus freak! I go every night in hopes of him being there, there was just something about the way he countered me so perfectly. There was something about this pulling connection I had to this guy’s music, everytime he would accompany me. But when he finally harmonized with my voice when I sang, I can’t explain it.”  _ I’d do anything to see him again; I’d do anything to hear him, to touch him. _ “After everything with Kevin, you’d think I’d be smarter than this…”

“Hmm, speaking of which, Chrissie,” Nadir proceeded cautiously, “has he left you alone? Do you think the message got through that moron’s thick, stupid, immature head of his?” His temper was flaring up. This man, no, this kid, brought such unnecessary heartache to Christine - never before had he seen such unrelenting, tireless emotional assaults on another human being. He saw this gaslighting, creepy psychological trick in Vietnam but never in a civilized capacity, especially involving a romantic relationship.

“Thankfully yes, it’s been really quiet, and may I even say peaceful and relaxing. I feel like my life is getting back together. But I don’t want to talk about Kevin anymore, please… I’m tired.”

“Fair enough, kiddo, but I’d fathom to guess you’d like to talk about your masked musical muse for the rest of the afternoon, am I right?” He poked her in the head in a jestering fashion and Christine smacked his hand with a laugh. “So, your masked friend… you’ve been playing with each other for three months, you seek him out, and now here you are, pining away.” Nadir sat there, quietly chuckling, eyes closed, shaking his head. “Oh Chrissie, you are your mother, such a sap and hopeless romantic. I don’t think you did anything wrong, maybe you’ll encounter your mysterious enchanter sooner than you imagine.”

_ I can only hope so. _

Christine opened her sketchbook again, flipping through the countless pages of sketches, slowing the rapid push of paper when her sketches changed from dark and foreboding in the beginning to the etchings and drawings of the masked man who bewitched her dreams, her soul, and her music. The note he had written the night peered up at her again, begging to be read again for the hundredth time.

_ My dearest Christine, despite my deepest apprehensions, I invite the opportunity for a duet if you wish. I would be honored if you could lend me your voice for an aria I am currently composing. May 12th at 5pm, I would very much like to hear you sing.  
_ _ Yours, Erik _

Folding the note and tucking it back into her sketchbook, she gripped her pencil again, outlining the unique shape of his eyes, his nose… his lips.

A flush of embarrassment rosied her cheeks. 

But fate can be so incredibly cruel.


	12. Collision Course

**Chapter 12: Collision Course**

**_Wednesday, May 12, 2004  
_ ** “Hey Uncle Nadir! One more final later this afternoon and then I’m finished - happy dance!!” Christine was thrilled. This year was certainly a challenge - returning to school after such a long hiatus after Gustav’s death and then everything with Kevin - she was exhausted and tired, but finally found a way to breathe mostly in part to Erik. 

“That’s good, Chrissie! I’m looking forward to having you back in the office this summer to help with all the new claims paperwork,” Nadir responded with a loud pretzel crunch over the phone.

“Seriously, can you crunch any LOUDER! You’re supposed to be a civilized lawyer, Nadir. Not obnoxiously crunching away over the phone,” Christine burst out laughing as Nadir crunched away even louder and laughed with her.

“Aw kiddo, it’s so good to hear your magical laugh again - you sound… happy.” He smiled broadly and felt like Christine was finally back to being bubbly sunshine. “So, um, one last attempt tonight at the music building to find your masked muse?”

“It’s my mission - I’m determined to see him tonight before heading back to the house. Despite the debacle from nearly three weeks ago, I have to find a way to apologize and not let his mask get in the way of what is obviously already between us.” But her confidence was quickly fading at the very thought of even talking to him.

“HA! Get him, girl! So, you’ll be back at the house tonight then? I won’t wait up, so I’ll leave the lights on and the door unlocked. I’m really looking forward to our breakfast tomorrow, Chrissie. I’ve missed my girl! I love you, kiddo, and good luck on your last final. I’ll see you in a few hours,” Nadir sighed happily.

“Thanks, Uncle Nadir! I’ll give you a call before I hit the road, but please don’t wait up. Love you too!” Christine clicked off her cell phone and headed into the library to get a few more hours of studying before her European history final. As she approached the entrance of the library, she couldn’t quite shake off an unnerving tingle in her spine, that something wasn’t quite right.  _ Just nerves - it’s finals week and you’ve promised yourself to find HIM tonight. That’s all _ .

Christine never saw a different  _ him _ lurking behind the water feature near the entrance to the library. Kevin’s eyes narrowed and let out a low, guttural growl, “Cheating, conniving bitch...” He clenched his fists and stalked off towards Christine’s apartment on South Campus.

* * *

“Fiiiiiiinals are fiiiiinally over!!!!” Meg pranced around the apartment with as much joviality as a child on Christmas morning as Raoul and Erik sat on the couch knocking back iced teas, watching her with mocking judgment.

“It’s been a long two years, but we made it out alive, Raoul, for the most part,” Erik stretched his long legs out and almost (purposefully) tripped Meg. She mimicked a kick to his feet before falling back into the recliner and taking a sip of her wine. 

“I know, right? This MBA program was a killer… I don’t know how you can dive deep into a PhD program right out of your master’s, Erik. I’m fried.” He took another long sip. “Hey, should we all go out for dinner tonight to celebrate?”

“Ugh, speak for yourselves. I still have one more year left of this Master’s program! But who cares right now because fiiiiinals are fiiiiiinally over!!! And yes on dinner!!” Meg continued her lovely serenade to welcome summer.

“Iron Hill Brewery, if possible. Good food and even better friends. I need to head to the music building tonight at 5:00PM, so let’s meet at Iron Hill around 6:00?”  _ I have to see her tonight. I WILL introduce myself. _ Erik started fidgeting nervously. He hadn’t been back to the building since they crossed paths, rather awkwardly, after their previous serenade three weeks ago.

Meg and Raoul looked at each other and noticed Erik sitting uncomfortably with a slight smirk on his face. “I know that look, Erik - will you FINALLY talk to her? You two have been these unknown, mysterious musicians for three months, and despite what happened three weeks ago, I’m hopeful and just know something magical is about to happen. It’s about time you did something, Destler.” Raoul wasn’t holding back on this one. He could let certain things slide with Erik, but this was different. Ever since Erik told Meg and Raoul about the mysterious “Vocalise” woman, Erik was a different person. Just hearing this girl play the piano triggered something in Erik’s soul that opened the floodgates of creativity. And the night her breathy, dark alto voice swam through the halls and raptured his soul into a new awakening, Erik wanted, no, he  _ thirsted _ , for more from this angel of music. She awakened and stirred the demons of wanton desire, her voice caressing parts of his soul never exposed. He needed more to survive. It was she that had him running back to his apartment to compose pieces of his symphony… she inspired him, she enthralled him, and he  _ needed _ her.

* * *

Christine emerged out of her final exam with a lighter burden. Exiting out of the building, the campus was quiet. It was a beautiful, late afternoon, with a slight evening chill beginning to fold into the warm breeze that glided over campus with a heavy sigh. The campus carillon warned it was a quarter to five.  _ Well, here goes nothing _ . And biting her bottom lip, Christine nervously headed towards the music building to hopefully encounter her musical companion once again, her heart pounding to the uneven rhythm of her heavy footsteps. As she had done for the past school year, Christine walked down the hallway to her favorite practice room. Laying down her bag of music books, she carefully laid out the score for Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise” once again and began to play. Her message to him: enrapture me. The slowly setting sun shone bright hues of orange and purple through the window of the practice room, tempting her to fully pour out her vulnerability and expose her soul to him…  _ for him _ . 

_ Oh God, she’s here! _ Erik stopped dead in his tracks and remained completely still.  _ Damn it, the doors! Don’t let them slam shut! _ He brought himself out of his stupor quick enough to catch the doors with his hand before they could crash shut. Painfully slowly, he silently glided down the hall towards the practice room she always chose. He couldn’t bring himself to breathe, and instead held it in while his heart pounded and ached for her music.  _ Oh please, my sweet angel of music, oh sing for me. Let me hear you _ . He was begging to hear her, with every muted step he took. Closer, closer still… there! Peering through the long, narrow window in the door, there she sat in front of the piano, her eyes closed as her body swayed with every beautiful crescendo.  _ Oh to see your body rise like the sun… you are so breathtakingly stunning _ . He couldn’t move and he stood frozen against the wall outside the room, barely able to breathe.  _ I can’t… she won’t… No, Erik, there’s no chance. Leave now. After what happened… how she reacted to you. No, turn back _ . Oh this horrific battle was raging furiously between his heart and his mind. His heart screamed and pleaded, “Yes! Go to her!” while his mind beat wildly against him, “No! Leave now! No angel deserves a monster.” Erik’s slender figure slowly slid down the wall as he sunk onto the floor, his elbows meeting his knees as he ran his long fingers through his dark hair in agony. A slight tinge of panic set in as the closing chords of “Vocalise” reach the finale, thinking she might open the door to find him in a crumbled mess on the floor… but, wait, a new song? Finally, her voice…

_ Let's hit the road and throw out the map  
_ _ Wherever we go, we won't look back  
_ _ Cause we're going places and we're going there fast  
_ _ And let's move to Paris and get ourselves a loft  
_ _ Let's live in squalor, and spend all cost  
_ _ Let's throw caution to the wind and start over again _

_ Think how many doors we'll open  
_ _ Just as many stars will shine  
_ _ Who knows where we're going  
_ _ Yeah who knows what we'll find  
_ _ I want to see the world  
_ _ The way I see a world with you _

_ Let's hike in the mountains and challenge our will  
_ _ Let's leap over canyons and get lost in the hills  
_ _ I want to see the world the way I see a world with you _

_ Think how many doors we'll open  
_ _ Just as many stars are sure to shine  
_ _ Who knows where we're going  
_ _ And who knows what we'll find  
_ _ I want to see the world  
_ _ The way I see a world with you _

...Erik pooled further onto the floor.  _ She doesn’t know who she’s singing to. She wants to see the world the way she sees a supposedly world with me. No, no… you can’t. Leave, Erik - she deserves so much more _ …

_ All of our prayers will be answered  
_ _ The sum of all our failures,  
_ _ They cannot hurt us now  
_ _ Let's hoist up our sails  
_ _ And shove off to China and climb up a wall  
_ _ Then we'll keep on climbing, looking over it all  
_ _ Laughing it up, yeah having a ball _

_ Think how many doors we'll open  
_ _ Just as many stars are gonna shine  
_ _ Who knows where we're going  
_ _ And who knows what we'll find  
_ _ I want to see the world  
_ _ The way I see a world with you _

_ I want to see the world  
_ _ The way I see a world with you.  _

Christine sat there, waiting, listening. It was too still, too quiet. Her heart began to feel like a lead weight, pulling her under the ocean of absolute despair.  _ One more song. Maybe this will work… _

Christine sat with her eyes closed and began humming the one song that brought her companion to life for the first time. The first time she heard his voice blend and combine with her was like two bodies coming together in the ultimate act of love and intimacy. 

_ Once upon another time  
_ _ Somebody’s hands who felt like mine  
_ _ Turned the key and took a drive  
_ _ Was free _

It was too painful. He couldn’t stay. He managed to pick himself off the floor in such a languid motion, feeling his heart breaking into a million pieces. He was torturing himself, there was no way an angel as beautiful as her would ever share anything with this monster lurking outside her practice room.  _ In another lifetime, Erik, let her go _ . He couldn’t help but glance at her one last time through the pane of glass; he pressed a kiss to his fingers and waved goodbye.

Again she sat in silence. There was nothing left to give. Nothing more to hope for with her strange companion.  _ You scared him off trying to confront him last time. You’re such an ignorant, immature fool _ . She was so angry with herself while feeling the overwhelming heartache breaking her soul apart, loathing how immature she felt she had acted.  _ You’re 22 years old, Chrissie - time to grow the hell up! _ With that last thought, she packed up her stuff and started the long walk back to her apartment, biting back her tears, wondering if this was ever truly meant to happen. Her mind frantically tried to rationalize everything and attempting to convince herself she never wanted to really see him again. Finals were over, graduation for the class of 2004 was in two days so hopefully he’d be gone then, then she wouldn’t have to worry about pining over some stranger she had absolutely no chance to ever become more with. It was summertime, she’d help Nadir at the law office and hang around the house.  _ Yeah, because you have no life and no friends. Kevin alienated everyone from you, so that’s your fault _ . She let out a rather loud and aggravated grunt, she left to head back and load up the remaining personal items into her car so she could get back to the house in the woods.

_ Ok, that’s the last of it _ . Christine glanced down at your watch, 8:00PM. She made good time packing up her belongings, cleaning the apartment, and loading up the car. She planned on coming back after her breakfast with Nadir to turn in the apartment keys to the leasing office, which would be a quick trip before heading to Nadir’s law office. As Christine reached up and shut the trunk of her car, two hands latched onto her arms with a ferocious bite. “Hello, Christine. How was your date with your new boyfriend,  _ my love _ ?” he growled and spat with venomous hatred into her ear that made her blood congeal in her veins; her body was completely taken over by fear.  _ Oh my God, no… please no _ . “Get in the car, Chris… it’s not over until I SAY it’s over, do you understand me?”

* * *

The brilliant sunset over campus smacked Erik in face when he opened the doors to make his way to Meg and Raoul’s apartment. He pulled out his phone and sent Raoul a message: “Nothing.”

“Raoul, what did he say? What happened? Where is he now?” Meg’s exuberance quickly faded when Raoul looked up from his phone with a sorrowful frown. “Ohh, no… Erik…” and tears welled in her eyes.

Ten minutes later, there came a timid knock on the door. Meg slowly peaked around the door and extended a gentle hand. Crushed didn’t even begin to scrape the surface of Erik’s deepened torment. His heart was breaking and it was no one’s fault but his own. He was so foolish, so immature to think that a beautiful, innocent angel of music could ever want to lay eyes on an ugly, deformed monster. The memories came flooding back into realization, hearing his own mother call him hideous and refused to touch him.

“Erik…” an echo of his name bringing him back to the present. “Erik… Erik, brother, come in.” Raoul’s gentle voice broke Erik out of his past and his eyes looked tiredly at Raoul. “Brother…” and Raoul wrapped his arm around Erik’s shoulders and ushered him into the apartment with Meg grasping onto his uncomfortably cold hand. “What happened, Erik?”

They all slumped down together onto the couch and Meg and Raoul glanced helplessly at each other. Meg’s eyes spoke to Raoul as if saying, “What do we say? Will he tell us?” They were quite used to Erik turning inwards when things got bad, where memories of his childhood and past came flooding in, but this… THIS was something so different. He wanted to make himself vulnerable to another person in more than just a friendship. He wanted to willingly bare his soul and extreme passion for music with someone he was drawn to, who spoke to him on a level not achieved by anyone else.

“Stupid, so incredibly stupid I was… or am… or perhaps cursed to be,” he whispered through a spirograph of thoughts. “I saw her sitting there, her body coming to life with every note she played. And tonight she sang a new song. Stuck, stuck on the floor, wringing my fingers into my scalp. Oh the pain wouldn’t go away. My heart is broken. An angel, music is her soul… oh how she ripped out my heart. She sang… she sang to me but she doesn’t see me… Music, music, tormenting music…” Erik sobbed through his thoughts. It was all Raoul and Meg could do to sit there and allow Erik to compartmentalize his way through more heartache.

“So, she didn’t see you then… she didn’t speak to you,” Meg proceeded cautiously.

“SHE DID SPEAK TO ME! She’s  _ been _ speaking to me for a year!! Also those notes, all the times our music married, her voice, my voice, her piano, my violin… it was all for nothing. Nothing but a fantasy.” Erik cursed the absurdity of the entire situation before Meg threw her arms around the man who had become like a brother and held him while Raoul laid a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

“Erik, look at me, man… hey, look at me,” Raoul was going into full brother mode. “She didn’t see you, Erik, and it’s ok you were scared. I just know there’s a bigger plan for you and for her, together. I’ve never seen you so… inspired before. Someone like that doesn’t randomly show up and then disappear. The stars will align, just like they always do. Remember the night me and Meg met you for the first time? The stars aligned that night too, and here we are three years later… the tricky trio, hmm?” Meg looked at Raoul and fell in love with him all over again. When the situation warranted, Raoul could really bring the sanity back into reality, and he was the one to bring Erik back from the brink of self-destruction.

Erik looked at his friends, his family and gave a weak grin. Nodding in reluctant acceptance, Meg quietly suggested they should head out for a nice, quiet dinner at Iron Hill for their reservation, enjoy each other’s company, then come back to the apartment for a laid back movie night. And with that, the tricky trio headed out to dinner.  _ I see her face, I hear her voice… my love, my muse, my symphony is for you. One day, this creature will find the courage to approach an angel. _

* * *

Kevin pushed Christine into the passenger seat of her car, and before she could even attempt to get up or adjust in the seat, Kevin slammed the car door shut, slamming onto the side of Christine’s head. She felt her head would erupt as the red heat of her blood began trickling down the side of her face. And almost like a phantom, Kevin emerged onto the driver's seat, turned the ignition, and sped off toward main campus and the downtown area.

_ Too fast, we’re going too fast. Oh God, please help. Dad… _ . “Did you really think that some stupid rent-a-cop on campus was going to keep me from seeing MY GIRLFRIEND?! I loved you, Christine! No one will ever love you like I do, no one can give you what I can. Not Nadir. Not your dead father. Not that prick you were going to meet tonight! NO ONE BUT ME!”  _ Too fast, we’re driving too fast. Someone, please help me. Scream, Christine, FIGHT! _

“KEVIN, ENOUGH! STOP IT!” She was screaming so loud her throat burned. Maybe someone would hear her? No, no one would. Her head was on fire with pain as she brought her hands up to try and stop the bleeding. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of being with someone broken and needy. I’m NOT BROKEN! I don’t NEED you. I DON’T LOVE YOU!!”

The car was careening down a narrow one-way street as she screamed her testimony. “YOU’RE A LIAR! SAY YOU LOVE ME! SAY IT!!!!!!” He screamed and punched the dashboard.

“NEVER! I DO NOT LOVE YOU!”  _ SMACK _ . Kevin swung his clenched fist to the side of Christine’s face, as her head hit the side of the door again, further deepening the already angry, red gash. Blood ran furiously down her face. She felt dizzy, her eyes fluttering, and the overwhelming nausea was almost too much to bear. In the apocalypse of his anger, Kevin lost control of the car. People on the sidewalks started pointing and shouting as the out of control car screeched through a red light, turning down another street and careened up onto the sidewalk before smashing head on into the facade of the building across from Iron Hill Brewery.

* * *

“Oompf, I don’t think I could eat another bite. I’m stuffed,” Raoul rubbed his belly and stretched a long stretch in hopes of making more room for dessert. “Yeah no, I can’t do it. You guys ready for the check?” Meg looked up sleepily and gave a thumbs up. Erik, on the other hand, barely touched his food. “Erik, it’ll be ok. Maybe you’ll see her again…” Bless Meg for always trying to be the eternal optimist.

“Erik, look at me,” pleaded Meg. “You are our Erik, our friend, our brother. And we love you just as you are, and we love who you are.” She reached for his hand, but he flinched away. “Erik, please, you’ll see her again.” She looked up at Raoul and begged for help but there was nothing left to say that wasn’t already spoken when Erik first appeared at their apartment.

Raoul paid the bill and both Meg and Erik helped with the tip. “Next time, next time…” Erik kept mumbling under his breath as they walked outside the restaurant. Suddenly they heard it, this loud cranking, grinding sound. “Look out!” Erik shouted and pushed Raoul and Meg out of the way and dove over them as the car careened over the sidewalk, smashing into the building across from the restaurant.

“Jesus, what in the world…?!” Raoul stared at the wreckage and Erik helped both him and Meg to their feet. Suddenly, from the driver’s side, the door creaked open. Out stumbled a young man with just a few scratches, frantically looking around. “H-h-hey man, you ok? Hey!” Raoul rushed to cross the street with Meg and Erik in toe. Smoke was starting to plume from underneath the hood of the car, but something wasn’t right. Kevin turned in sheer anger, “Mind your own DAMN business!!” 

“Something isn’t right…” Erik muttered and within a blink of an eye, he saw Kevin try to bolt around them and run. “Raoul! Stop him!!” With a pounce, both Raoul and Erik were on top of Kevin, holding him down. “Get off me!! Bitch got what she deserved…!”

Meg was on the phone with 9-1-1 when she noticed a slight movement from the passenger side of the car. “Raoul! Erik! Someone else is in the car!!!” A small crowd was starting to assemble to gawk at the rapidly unfolding chaos.

“Go, Erik, I got him.”

Erik hobbled over to the passenger side of the car. The window was shattered and broken out, and that’s when he saw her. Long, curly brown hair that was usually silky and shiny was now tinted in angry blood and her body was so ominously still. Wait, movement… her body shifted slightly in the seat as she strained to open her eyes and let out an excruciating, nauseating whimper. Her head turned almost involuntarily towards the window. “Oh God, my angel, no… oh Christine, oh Christine, no…” Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out his hand, and touched her face while tears escaped his eyes.


	13. Extraction

**Chapter 13: Extraction**

Oh how soft she was, but the swelling from her injuries began mapping a new terrain upon her face. Christine barely regained her consciousness and attempted to open her very swollen eyes. Immediately her vision blurred and panic bounded through the threshold. Her breathing rapidly increased in short, painful breaths.

“Hh-help me, someone please.” Her pleas coming quickly but quietly. “It hurts…”

“Shhh, be still, help is coming. I’m here,” Erik calmly replied, letting his fingers gently touch her face, but he froze. The smell of hot metal, of gasoline started filling the air around the car, the noxious fumes burning Erik’s nose and eyes. “No, oh God, no…” In the distance the sirens were wailing an impending requiem.

“Erik! There’s a fire under the hood of the car - get her out! There’s no time!!” Meg screamed in utter panic into the phone with 9-1-1 and to Erik. Her eyes panned the scene and found Raoul still pinning the driver of the vehicle on the ground.

“Stay there, Meg! Don’t go closer,” Raoul warned as two bystanders came to assist in restraining Kevin. With their help, he ran to Erik. “Erik, we gotta get her out, there’s no time, she’ll die.” With that, Erik jumped up and began violently pulling at the car door in a frantic desperation, expelling curses and agonizing grunts. Stuck. Smashed shut.

“Raoul, get on this side. Count of three, pull… 1, 2, 3!” With every ounce of strength they had, they yanked as hard they could. The door didn’t budge. Christine’s head helplessly teetered back and forth. “DAMMIT, AGAIN! HARDER!!” Erik shouted. “1, 2, 3!!!!” The door popped only slightly, and Erik felt his mask shifting uncomfortably and falling off from the force of his movements. “Damn this fucking thing!” And ripped off his mask without giving it a thought. The gasps waved through the crowd but he didn’t hear them. “Raoul, the door’s moving. I’ll reach the door handle on the other side, and when I say, pull your side at the same time. Ready?” Raoul nodded, trying to catch his breath. The smoke was growing suffocatingly thick and orange flames began dancing from underneath the hood. “Last time… 1, 2, 3, NOW!!!!” Both men pulled so hard the door broke completely off as the remaining glass cut deep into their palms, and Erik saw Christine’s limp, mangled right arm spill out. Blood ran race tracks down her fingers, deep gashes gnashing their way open on her side and her leg. And before her limp body fell completely out of the car, Erik fell to his knees and embraced her, cradling her bloodied head in the nook of his elbow. Christine let out a shortened gasp.

“Erik, get her out of the car!! The fire’s growing!” shouted Raoul, clenching his fist in an attempt to contain the bleeding and the pain.

“I have to move you now… I’m sorry.” Erik tried as carefully as he could to lift her out of the seat, squeezing his arm under Christine’s knees to leverage enough to pry her out. As soon as his arms came into contact with her hips and legs, she let out an excruciating scream of gut wrenching pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Erik begged for her forgiveness as a knot clogged his throat in despair. Carrying her like a fallen angel from heaven, Erik hobbled back across the street from the car, gently laid her on the sidewalk, away from the fire and the smoke and the burning wreckage. “Oh my angel, oh I’m so sorry…” he repeated in a whisper over and over again. Erik took off his sweatshirt and gently tucked it under Christine’s head for support. In an attempt to keep her head and neck stabilized, Erik sat on his knees and placed both the sweatshirt and Christine’s head between them. His arms fell helplessly to his legs as his hands gently and ever so softly began pulling strands of hair off Christine’s swollen, bloodied face. Meg and Raoul stood behind Erik in helpless observance. Cop cars and firetrucks and ambulances littered the street as authorities wrangled the gawking crowd to a safer distance and quickly extinguished the smoldering wreckage. Only Erik, Meg, and Raoul remained in utter silence as lights flashed in blinding, blazing reds.

Despite the excruciating pain radiating throughout her body, Christine attempted again to open her eyes.  _ What happened? Where am I? Where’s Nadir? Where’s Dad? Who’s touching me? _ Erik noticed the panic setting in, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from gently placing a kiss on her bloodied, bruised forehead. “Shhh, help is here, shhh… be still, lovely girl, be still…” She let out a gasp at the sound of that voice and the gentle, soft fingers upon her face, lulling her to calm, wiping away her pooling tears from the corners of your eyes.  _ It’s not Kevin, it’s not him… thank you God. _

“Erik…? Oh God, p-pl-please help me.” She choked on her tears and her breathing became erratic, and Erik did the only thing he could ever do. He sang...

_ I’ll keep you safe  
_ _ Try hard to concentrate  
_ _ Hold out your hand  
_ _ Can you feel the weight of it  
_ _ The whole world at your fingertips  
_ _ Don’t be, don’t be afraid  
_ _ Our mistakes they were bound to be made  
_ _ But I promise you I’ll keep you safe _

Erik leaned forward, bending down further, closer, his face so close to hers. The deformity of his face ever more pronounced from the light shining from the streetlamp above. The ridges of his mutilated cheekbones casting ghastly shadows over the plains of thinly stretched skin. His swollen, misshapen lips protruding outward, causing an almost fish-like pucker. The hairpiece usually affixed to his scalp was awkwardly skewed and falling off, punctuating the silvery, white thin strands of patchy, straggly hair underneath.

_ You’ll be an architect  
_ _ So pull up your sleeves  
_ _ And build a new silhouette  
_ _ In the skylines up ahead  
_ _ Don’t be, don’t be afraid  
_ _ Our mistakes they were bound to be made  
_ _ But I promise you I’ll keep you safe  
_ _ I’ll keep you safe _

With what sounded like an almost contented sigh, he heard her speak, “It’s you, it’s you… you’re an angel…” She stared in awe through blurry vision at the man this voice emerged from. 

_ And darkness will be rewritten  
_ _ Into a work of fiction, you’ll see  
_ _ As you pull on every ribbon  
_ _ You’ll find every secret it keeps  
_ _ The sound of the branches breaking under your feet  
_ _ The smell of the falling and burning leaves  
_ _ The bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring  
_ _ You are an artist  
_ _ And your heart is your masterpiece  
_ _ And I’ll keep it safe _

“Safe, safe,” she whispered, the pain from her injuries clouding her thoughts as she struggled to keep hold of the voice singing above her. 

_ Dismiss the invisible  
_ _ By giving it shape  
_ _ Like a clockmaker fixes time  
_ _ By keeping the gears in line  
_ _ Don’t be, don’t be afraid  
_ _ God knows that mistakes will be made  
_ _ But I promise you I’ll keep you safe _

_ As you build up your collection  
_ _ Of pearls that you pulled from the deep  
_ _ A landscape more beautiful  
_ _ Than anything that I’ve ever seen  
_ _ The sound of the branches breaking under your feet  
_ _ The smell of the falling and burning leaves  
_ _ The bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring  
_ _ You are an artist  
_ _ And your heart is your masterpiece  
_ _ And I’ll keep it safe _

“It’s you, my Erik…” Her eyes fluttered again and began to close as the paramedics came to stabilize her.

“Sir… sir, do you know this woman? Do you know her name?” The EMT knelt down to assess Christine.

“No, I don’t know her… she’s…” But Erik stopped his thought, realizing his face was completely exposed as the EMT stared at him, attempting to keep his composure and quickly turned his medical attention to Christine.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step back so we can get her stabilized. Were you injured?”

_ More than you know… more than you could possibly know. _

“Erik…. Erik… sweetie.” It was Meg, resting her hand on his shoulders while holding his mask in her hand. “Sweetie, let the paramedics take a look at your hand. Raoul’s cut is deep and they want him to go to the ER. Let them look at you.” 

“Mr. de Chagny, we’ll want the doctor to take a look at that cut to get it cleaned out and stitched up. Mr. Destler, you as well. We’re not equipped right now to handle those gashes so please head to the ER now.” The paramedic handed extra bandages to Meg with the instructions. “Officer, I would advise you to interview these nice folks at the hospital. They need their gashes tended to before infection chances increase.”

“Agreed. Folks, if you would allow me to escort you to the emergency room, my partner will be coming with to obtain some more information from the young woman if he’s able to. Do any of you know either of these individuals? Do you know if they’re students at the university?” Raoul and Meg shook their heads no, but Erik stood painfully hunched over, the crushing weight of regret clawing its way deep into the pit of his stomach. Staring at the long gurney as he heard the EMTs proclaiming, “She’s seizing! Let’s move guys, let’s go!” and slammed the doors of the ambulance shut, carrying away his fallen angel. The wail of sirens could not drown out the wailing of his rupturing heart.

* * *

“It’s nearly midnight, where on earth is that kid?” Nadir spoke quietly to himself. She was to be back almost two hours ago. Again, he dialed her cell number. “Hi, you’ve reached Christine… leave a message.” This was the sixth time he called and again couldn’t get through. The loud ringtone made him jump. He quizzically looked at the number, a 610 area code. “That’s Western Cypress area code. Hello?” His face immediately reddened, heat pulsing its way through his veins. “Oh my God, no. No, um, he’s… he passed away. Nadir Khan, her Godfather.” A heavy pause. “I’m on my way!” Nadir grabbed his keys and ran full speed to the driveway and got in his car.  _ I should have stayed in the city rather than driving up here, I would be so much closer. Damn this house! Damn that college!  _ “DAMN IT!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he swerved quickly down the access road onto the highway.

* * *

“I couldn’t see her face…”

“Who were they?”

“Do you know her?”

“Have you seen her on campus before?”

“Is the young man a student?”

“Do you know who that young man is?”

“You need to open your hand. Sir…” the voice of an emergency room nurse gliding in softly between the onslaught of questions rattling in Erik’s ears. “Sir… sir, please, I need you to unclench your hand.”

“Huh, sorry?” Erik blinked quickly, breaking out of his dazed mental state. He looked down to see the nurse attempting to gently pry his fingers away from his deep cut. “I’m sorry, sorry,” he rasped.

“It’s ok, sounds like it was a terrible thing to witness. But I really need to get this cleaned up and assess whether you need stitches, ok?” All he could do was nod and more questions flooded around him.

“So the young man emerged from the driver seat. What happened next?”  _ That voice must have been the police officer who escorted them to the hospital. _

“He was looking around really frantically. Then he just took off. That’s when me and Erik tackled him.”  _ Raoul’s voice. _

“Why did you tackle him?”  _ Ok, that was the police officer’s voice. Wait, where’s Meg? _

“He looked angry, it was a look of utter hatred. It wasn’t a look of ‘Oh, I need to yell for help.’ He tried to flee the scene, Officer.”  _ Meg’s voice. She was ok, safe… good. _

“When we tackled him, he mumbled something, I couldn’t really make it out,” Raoul continued quietly.

“Bitch got what she deserved,” Erik said hoarsely.

“Beg your pardon?” the officer turned around and faced Erik.

“He said: ‘Bitch got what she deserved,’” Erik said again, anger and rage billowing up like a blazing wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

“Christ, ok. Then what happened?” The officer continued to question the trio, but Erik couldn’t respond. All he could think, all he could feel, all he could see was her. Her shattered face puffy, swollen, bleeding… and what he could remember seeing so vividly was the boney bulge protruding out from her leg, ripping through her jeans… her body blood-soaked, contorted. Erik grew nauseous remembering the sounds of her gut-wrenching whimpers of blinding pain. Erik quickly grabbed the pan housing the bloody bandages from his cut and vomited.

“Oh Erik,” Meg gasped as she quickly grabbed a nearby trash can. “You ok?” It was all Erik could do but nod in crushing defeat.  _ I have failed her _ .

* * *

Raoul and Erik sat in silence waiting for Meg to finish in the restroom so they could make their way home. The police officer who questioned them earlier reappeared and thanked them both. “If you can think of anything else after the haze of this has passed and you’re able to recall anything else, please give me a call. Here’s my…” He couldn’t continue his thought when an older gentleman ran through the doors, pushing his way to the reception desk. “Where is she?! Where is Christine?!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. The officer quickly turned around to intervene.

“Christine, her name is Christine. I’m her uncle… godfather. Nadir Khan. Dammit, where is she?!” He couldn’t control his emotions. Usually the stoic, calm individual in all circumstances, Nadir was teetering dangerously on the edge of absolute hysteria. “CHRISTINE DAAE! Aren’t you listening?! DAAE. D-A-A-E!” he yelled at the receptionist.

“Sir, I’m Officer John Bryant. I was at the scene of the accident,” he calmly intervened. “Ma’am, I’ll escort Mr. Khan to the room if you’d permit.” The receptionist waved them through.

“Daae,” whispered Erik. “Christine…”

“Sorry, what’s that, Erik?” Raoul’s mind dazedly reappeared from a fog. “You say something? Didn’t hear you.”

“No.”

“Christ what’s taking Meg so long?” Raoul spat out to no one in particular. His hand was on fire. The stitches were tight, uncomfortable. Thankfully for Erik, the cut to his hand wasn’t nearly as deep as Raoul’s.  _ Ironic, since you leave for New York in three days _ .

Officer Bryant was soon back with Raoul and Erik. “Sorry guys, apparently that’s the girl’s godfather.”

“Is she…? Will she…?” Erik stuttered quietly. “How is she?”

“Hard to say, honestly. It’s not looking good. There’s a compound fracture in her right tibia, dislocated right shoulder. She had a seizure in the ambulance, so they’re thinking a lacerated spleen. Lots of scrapes, cuts. I only heard a few bits and pieces once I escorted Mr. Khan into the room. That gentleman is apparently her Godfather. From what I could gather, her father passed away a few years ago, so no immediate family.” There was a heavy, saddened pause. “If she pulls through, she’ll have a long road ahead. Poor girl.”

Erik sat completely still, again feeling the crushing weight of guilt holding him down, the sensation of wanting to scream and beg for her Godfather’s forgiveness was oppressive.

“Hey, sorry guys. Are you ready to go home?” Meg finally emerged from the ladies room. “Officer Bryant, are we free to leave or do you have any more questions?”

“No, ma’am… and thank you all so much. You helped save that girl’s life, you know. Here’s my card. We have your contact information should we need anything else for the investigation.”

“You guys get the car. I need to use the restroom,” Erik whispered.

Raoul and Meg started out of the ER to retrieve the car from the parking garage. Erik slowly stood, feeling apprehensive at going into Christine’s room and begging for Nadir’s forgiveness for failing his goddaughter. He took one hesitant step, then another, eyes fixed to the floor as if his mind and feet refused to communicate to each other. “Thank you doctor,” he heard a voice emerge from a room and footsteps getting closer. Erik flinched when a shoulder briefly bumped into him. “Forgive me, young man, I didn’t see y-...” and the words fell dead silent. Erik glanced up and his eyes locked onto a set of dark eyes bloodshot with exhaustion, anger, and overwhelming sadness. “Are you…?” Nadir couldn’t find the words to finish his question when a blue light began flashing, running footsteps smashing down the hall. “Another seizure! Get Dr. Baker!” Nadir quickly whipped around.

“Mr. Khan, we need your permission for surgery. Ultrasound confirmed a lacerated spleen and she’s bleeding internally. We need your signature. We have to fix the lacerated spleen and stabilize her before surgery to correct the compound fracture. Mr. Khan. Mr. Khan… MR. KHAN!” He turned to sign and began jogging behind the doctor back into Christine’s room. He glanced over his shoulder to find the tall, young man wearing a mask had disappeared.

* * *

Erik walked out of the emergency room and found Meg and Raoul off to the side with their four-ways on. He quietly slinked into the backseat. Meg gently pulled away as the trio drove in complete silence.

“I hope your hand feels better, Raoul. Rest well my friends,” Erik sighed as he reached for the door handle, briefly wincing in pain from the cut in his hand. 

“Erik?” Raoul said as he turned in the passenger seat and Meg glanced over her shoulder, both sets of eyes focused on the defeated passenger behind them. Erik froze as Raoul’s eyes locked on his, knowing Raoul wanted to ask and confirm if the girl tonight was her. Erik looked away, opened the door, and stepped out. Erik replied unsteadily, “I’m not going to graduation tomorrow so don’t wait for me. I’ll be leaving for New York instead. Raoul, please let your mother know of my early arrival, and thank her for me for loaning out their apartment. I’ll call you later.”

Before they could say a word, the car door rocked closed and they watched their friend walk up the brick-layed steps, disappearing inside the empty townhouse.

It was dark inside, cold even. Erik looked around at the few boxes stacked in the foyer, awaiting the movers arrival for that weekend to move his personal belongings to New York after graduation. The rage he had been pushing and punching down into his gut came boiling and erupting, the regret and remorse whirling inside him like a deadly hurricane unleashed its fury. He screamed at the top of his lungs, he lunged towards the boxes. Throwing, clamoring, breaking, thrashing, kicking… destroying. He grabbed the portfolio housing his composition and symphony. He stared at it with absolute disgust, and, as with giving his hand permission, he watched as his fingers furiously ripped the pages to shreds. He grabbed his violin and hurled it to the ground where it smashed into broken pieces on the hard stone floor. Trembling and shaking, Erik collapsed to the floor, ripping off his mask, his sobs coming more harshly, his hands reaching up to his face as the steady stream of tears dampened the skin. But instead of drying his eyes, his fingers dug into his distorted flesh, scratching, gnashing, clawing. The wetness of tears on his fingers was replaced with the wetness of blood. “Monster, monster… MONSTER!!” 

* * *

“Mr. Khan?” a gentle male voice pulled Nadir from a restless sleep. He was greeted by a man dressed in light green scrubs and a pristinely clean, white lab coat. The obnoxious brightness of the fluorescent lights awakened a growing throbbing headache. “Mr. Khan, hello, I’m Dr. Thaddeus Clarke, chief surgeon for Western Cypress Hospital. I operated on your daughter, Christine.”

“Uh, yes, yes of course. She’s my goddaughter. Her father is no longer with us,” Nadir remorsefully responded. He was choking back the tears.

“Yes, well, I understand. Christine pulled through both surgeries perfectly. We were able to easily repair the small laceration in her spleen rather quickly. Of course the compound fracture to her right tibia was quite severe. We had to insert a metal rod along with pins and screws to fully realign and reset the bone. She’ll be in the cast for quite some time and will need extensive physical therapy in order to build back any muscle loss and strengthen her leg. As for her shoulder, it was a mild dislocation, but there was so tearing of ligaments and tendons. We were able to repair those with minor interference. The one thing we are somewhat worried and concerned for is any signs of traumatic brain injury. We can run a full MRI to assess any swelling with minimal disruption to the surgical screws and rods in her leg. We’ll be running that shortly and should have immediate results. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

Why was it taking so long to digest all this? He was an educated attorney, he should be able to acknowledge this with clarity and understanding and timely. “I’m sorry, traumatic brain injury?”

“Yes, we noticed deep wounds just above her right temple,” Dr. Clarke pointed to a general area of his head to give a better picture. “I observed some odd bruising around her eye, which doesn’t really match up to her other injuries. This one seemed pre-accident, based on the location of the injury.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Khan, from the collaborating stories from witnesses on the scene, another individual was in the car with her. Christine was not driving, she was a passenger.” Nadir froze cold.  _ No, no, oh God please don’t tell me it was him _ . The flurry of incoherent thoughts racing through his brain.

“Mr. Khan, hello, I’m Officer John Bryant, Western Cypress police. I was one of the responding officers on scene after the car accident.” Nadir slowly backed down into a chair, stunned, silent, sickened. 

“Mr. Khan, I will send out my resident shortly once we Christine is out of surgery and we wake her from anaesthesia. Officer Bryant.” Dr. Clarke nodded to both gentlemen before exiting the waiting room and disappearing behind the doors warning: STAFF ONLY.

Officer Bryant sat down before Nadir and proceeded to tell him the story of how the evening’s events unfolded. Nadir could barely put the pieces together, but the bigger picture pointed to one singular person who was to blame for every ounce of misery, discomfort, pain, suffering… Kevin Trickman. Kevin. KEVIN. KEVIN! Nadir balled his fists wanting nothing more than to throttle the insolent boy responsible for it all.  _ He could have killed her! He wanted to kill her! He tried to kill her! _ His mind screamed and the thoughts of wanting to kill Kevin with his bare hands began coursing their way through Nadir’s veins.

“But thank God for those three kids. Without them, especially the dark-haired gentleman, she might not have made it out alive.”

“I beg your pardon?” Nadir whispered out of his daze of fury.

“Yeah, those three kids, listen to me calling them kids. I forgot their names… Meg Giry, Raoul de Chagny, and, um, gosh my handwriting is atrocious,” Officer Bryant flipped through his notebook. “Ah, yes, Erik Destler. Raoul and Erik were the ones who tackled Mr. Trickman and they’re the ones who noticed the fire and pulled the car door straight off. If it wasn’t for that Mr. Destler extracted her from the car, the fire would have consumed everything and…” his words dropped off.

“Erik Destler? What did he look like?” Nadir hated to ask because he already knew the answer. It was the young man he had accidentally bumped shoulders with hours early in the hall of the emergency room. The tall, skinny lad with dark hair wearing a mask.

“Excuse me, Officer Bryant, but I need Mr. Khan. Christine is out of surgery and we’re about to pull her out from the anesthesia.”

“Yes, of course, Doctor. I’ll be at the desk faxing over some documents to the station, but I will need to chat with you briefly regarding the extent of Ms. Daae’s injuries and the prognosis for my report,” Officer Bryant explained. “Mr. Khan, please take my card. And thank you for providing the details regarding Mr. Trickman’s past relationship with your goddaughter. I’ll be sure to contact campus security tomorrow for the files.”

“Mr. Khan,” the anesthesiologist introduced himself with an extended hand, “please stand over here, feel free to take her hand. Some take a little longer than others to come out, but let her hear your voice.”

Muffled grunts followed, murmurs, short intakes of quick breaths, more incoherent grumblings, slight twitching of her fingers, eyelids attempting to flutter open.

“Christine, Chrissie, can you open your eyes? Sweetie? Christine, please open your eyes now. It’s ok, open your eyes,” Nadir gently leaned down to Christine’s ear and spoke quietly.

“Daddy?”

“No, it’s Nadir. It’s your godfather, honey.”

“No, no, daddy? Where’s dad?” Her breathing rapidly increased, panic setting in again. “Oh my God, Kevin… no, no! KEVIN! No, no, get away!!” Frantic, paranoid, terrified, she tried to move to stand up, the searing hot pain in her shoulder, her leg, and her incision stitches screamed at her to fall down. “I can’t move! I can’t move my leg!” She was sobbing. Nadir was losing composure with heartache.

“No, sweetie, Dad’s not here. Dad passed away, Christine. I need you to calm down, it’s over. Kevin’s gone. He’s gone, he’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. Christine, please look at me. Christine…” Nadir pleading helplessly.

Christine collapsed in pain and exhaustion back against the bed, her senses finally coming back into current reality, hiccuping and gasping through her tears, her eyes fully open and aware, surveying the stark white cast encased around her leg, her distended arm snuggled into a sling, her vision blurry through her swollen black eye. She looked pleadingly at Nadir. “What happened? Where is he?”

“You were in a bad car accident. Kevin was driving your car and he crashed. Kevin’s gone, he’s not here, he’s gone.” Nadir tried to stay calm and steady, he had to.

“But where is his voice? Where is the angel of music?” Her thoughts growing heavy.

“Christine, whose voice? What’s the angel of music?” Nadir grew worrisome. She wasn’t making sense. She wasn’t coherent. He watched as Officer Bryant entered the room with Dr. Clarke following from behind.

“Christine, I’m Officer John Bryant. I am the officer in charge of investigating the car accident. Can you tell me what happened before you crashed?”

Every detail, every horrific memory of Kevin digging his hands into your arms, shoving her in the car, slamming the door on her head, punching her in the face… Nadir sat back horrified.  _ How could I have let it come to this? _ She could only recall the fast approaching red brick wall before her memory faded.

“Well, Christine, I must admit: most people wouldn’t have remembered so much. Do you remember or recall anything after the accident?” Christine was fading quickly, shifting uncomfortably as the searing hot pain scurried through her bones. Her head throbbing, she felt sick, holding her breath from the pain ripping through her. She was grunting through her shallow breaths.

“There was… voice… it was… angel… music…” her voice trailed off as she cried out in pain. 

The nurse came with as Dr. Clarke ordered a dose of morphine. “I think that’s enough for tonight folks. She needs to rest,” he ordered.

“May I stay?” Nadir asked. And with a nod, he kissed Christine on her battered forehead as the night nurse brought in a blanket and pillow for Nadir.

* * *

The morphine-induced sleep filled Christine with a dreadful dream. She felt his heated kisses seductively trailing her jaw, her neck. She felt his tongue lightly suckle the hollow of her throat, her panting becoming strained with desire, aching for more. His fingers tracing every contour of her shoulders trailing ever so gently around the curves of her chest. The nip of teeth biting at the base of her neck becoming deeper and harder. “Danger, danger!” her mind screamed at her. She heard the growling then biting then strangling hands closing in. “No one will love you like I do, Christine. NO ONE!” Her head jerking violently in her sleep, mumbling, muffled no’s escaping her lips. Her mind telling her, “Wake up, wake up, Christine, Chris…”

“Christine, wake up sweetie. Christine!”

“NO!” she cried out and her eyes snapped out, tears streaming down her face. She looked frantically to the tall man standing beside her bed, blurry vision attempting to bring him into focus. “Angel of music?” she whispered as her eyes blinked furiously trying to recognize the form before her. 

“No, Christine, it’s me. Uncle Nadir. It’s me sweetie. There’s no angel of music.” He poured a small cup of water with ice and handed it to her.

“No angel of music,” she swallowed down the ice cold water. “No angel, no more music,” she whispered as the nurse brought another small dose of morphine. She sank back into slumber.

“Should we just go to see if he’s there? There’s no way he could have meant it,” Meg concluded. “He wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye or even letting Dr. Marrenesco know he was leaving before graduation.”

“I dunno, Meg, something was off last night. We’ve never seen him like that before. But if you think we can talk him out of leaving today instead of the weekend, then let’s give it a try,” Raoul rationalized.

A few minutes later found the couple parked out front of the townhouse. It was quiet, too quiet. Erik’s car wasn’t parked in its usual spot. The house was dark. Raoul and Meg walked up together and knocked on the door. It was still early, only 8:00AM. They knocked again. No answer. “Maybe he’s still asleep?” Meg wondered as Raoul shook his head in a knowing acceptance. Meg reached for the doorknob and found it unlocked. “That’s not like him…”

They both entered the dark, cold home. Not a soul to be found. The house was in pristine condition, not a speck of dust anywhere. “Erik? It’s Meg and Raoul. Hello?” Silence.

“Erik?” Raoul called out, standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m going up, Meg.” He reached the top and everything was empty, everything still, everything quiet.

“Oh my God, Raoul!” Raoul ran the steps and was greeted by Meg holding Erik’s broken violin and torn up sheet music in the garbage bin in the mudroom near the kitchen. “What on earth happened last night?”

Raoul swallowed hard. His suspicions about the young woman from last night were now confirmed. It was here. Christine. Christine Daae. The name Officer Bryant said last night in the emergency room. Christine Daae. Erik’s muse and inspiration. Christine Daae. The woman who turned Erik Destler from despondent, lonely musical genius into an actual man who finally could feel what love was. Christine Daae. Erik Destler. Raoul’s mind running frantically on how to fix this. How to fix this until Meg walked into the kitchen and noticed a note hanging on the refrigerator. Erik’s handwriting.

_ Dear friends, _

_ A new season has arrived and I must take my leave. I simply could not be stuck in this place for any longer. A new season of change is beckoning me onwards to new places, new people, and I sincerely hope for a new chapter with new memories. _

_ My love for you both remains never failing and never ending. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your loving kindness, for welcoming me into your lives and into your families. I do not know where this road will lead, but only to brighter days and promising futures. _

_ I will be in touch when all is settled and established.  _

_ My heart with you both always,  
_ _ Erik C. Destler _


	14. Trials

**Chapter 14: Trials**

“You overreached! And because of your agenda and the agenda of your office, you LOST this case. This ruling isn’t a punishment; it’s a get outta jail free card! How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?!” Nadir’s booming, loud voice echoed through the somewhat vacant halls. A few passersby halted in their footsteps at the sudden outburst.

“Mr. Khan, I’m sorry you feel that way. We did what needed to be done to bring to light the lack of legislation and punishment for domestic abuse and violence. Although this is not the ruling we wanted or intended, it still sheds light on what needs improving. And from this, the state legislature will bring up possible new talking points when it reconvenes in the fall. We will be presenting new legislation and this case will be an example,” the district attorney admitted. 

“Go to hell,” Nadir mumbled in a low growl. His shoulders rounded in defeat as he carried the weight of defeat and regret home.

* * *

The Amtrak train shuddered forward and jerked Erik from his lost gaze planted on the cold concrete station platform. His long arms crossed against his rigid form, shielding himself, protecting himself, trying to prevent the gut-wrenching heartache from bursting from his body. It was still early in the morning, but the summer sunrise began to offer a beautiful glow of purples and oranges along the horizon. The same colors that radiated through the window just yesterday evening as he watched her body move and glide with the swell of chords her fingers played. The hues of sunlight engulfing her body and turning her into an ethereal being. He still heard the music, he still heard her voice as the sounds of sirens and crashing cars and flashing lights poured out from his memories. Her beautiful voice turning into excruciating screams and sobs. All he could feel was her mangled body in his arms. All he could smell was smoldering hot metal and gasoline. His fingers still burned from the touch of her face on his skin. He swallowed harshly as he pulled the window shade down as if shutting out the memories of last night.

“Good morning passengers. This is the 29 Acela to New York-Penn Station. Estimated travel time non-stop to Penn Station is one hour, 17 minutes. Please present your tickets.” The automated announcement came over the intercom. Erik glanced at his watch for the time, 6:45AM, ten minutes behind schedule already. Did it really matter? Did any of it really matter? He finished his email to Officer Bryant explaining the circumstances and to contact him if anything else was needed further for the investigation, citing obligations for his doctoral program and his impending touring schedule with the New York City Chamber Orchestra. He quickly clicked send and closed his laptop, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and pain.

* * *

“Good morning, folks. How are we feeling this morning, Christine?” Dr. Clarke popped in early to find Christine alert and attempting to choke down a bland breakfast. Nadir sat up to also see Officer Bryant following quietly behind. “It’s good to see you awake and alert. How’s your pain?”

Christine’s tired eyes panned the faces of the men along her bedside. “It really hurts, but I guess ok.” Her voice was hoarse and her throat was dry. Dr. Clarke proceeded to do a physical exam while inspecting her quickly healing shoulder and surgical incision that repaired her lacerated spleen. Audible hisses passed her lips as her body was contorted and positioned awkwardly.

“Well, I’m very happy with your progress this early on to your recovery. Your incision is healing beautifully. We do need to discuss physical therapy for your leg, as that will be the biggest hurdle for you to get your mobility back. I think you might be able to go home by tomorrow.”

“Well that sounds promising, doesn’t it, kid?” Nadir turned to see Christine blankly staring into a deep nothing. “Christine, you ok?”

“Huh? Yeah, just hurts,” she quietly responded. “I’m fine.”

“Christine, good morning. Officer Bryant. I wanted to chat with you this morning if you were up for it. I have been in touch with Officer Kovacik at Western Cypress campus security and he’s handed over copies of your case files regarding Mr. Trickman. Would you mind if we went through a few items?”

“What happened to him? Where is he?” Christine inquired. She felt Kevin’s vice grip on her arms again when he had grabbed her from behind, causing her to shiver which immediately sent her recovery pains surging through her body and she winced.

“Kevin’s injuries were minor, a few cuts and bruises. He was checked over last night and sent home.”

Nadir felt his temper bubbling up. “You mean you didn’t arrest him?” Christine closed her eyes, a feeling of hopelessness started to wash over her.

“Mr. Khan, there’s nothing to arrest him for. For right now, it’s a car accident. Yes, he’s at fault since he was driving, but his blood alcohol was normal, there was no evidence of illegal substances. He gave us a statement that he was driving, speeding, and he and Christine were arguing loudly leading up to the crash.”

“But the statement Christine gave last night. He pushed her into the car. He punched her!” Nadir growing increasingly agitated. 

“I understand, sir, and of course everything is still under investigation. We’re still inspecting the crash site, the car, and speaking with eye witnesses to piece this all together. I understand your frustrations, but this will take time. We’re also matching up accounts from the three individuals who helped Christine after the car crash.”

“Who?” she asked. “Someone helped me?”

“Yes. Three students from the university. After the car caught fire…”

“Caught fire?!” she interrupted. “I don’t… I don’t remember…”

“Shortly after the crash, the car began smoldering. Two young men pulled the door off to get you out. One young man pulled you out himself.” Office Bryant looked curiously from Christine to Nadir to Dr. Clarke. “Christine, do you remember anything after the accident?”

She wanted to remember. She wanted to tell them about someone touching her face; she wanted to tell them about the voice of an angel she heard singing her to calm. “I don’t… I don’t remember the accident.” Christine grew more panicked. Why couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t she remember his face? The throbbing pain in her leg forced a whimper.

Dr. Clarke came over to administer a small dose of morphine. “Dr. Clarke, may I have a word?” Nadir asked as Christine sank back to rest. “Is the forgetfulness normal?” Nadir spoke softly as Dr. Clarke followed him into the hallway.

“With something like this, yes, it can be presented as temporary. The MRI after the surgery showed some swelling but new images show signs that the swelling is barely noticeable. I’m sure her brain is compartmentalizing right now. If you want, I could recommend a neurosurgeon if you want more information and further tests.”

Nadir responded with a nod of thanks but no thanks and a sigh.  _ The sooner I can get her home, the better _ .

* * *

“Now approaching New York-Penn Station. Time is 8:20AM. Thank you for choosing Amtrak.” The announcement woke Erik from an uncomfortable, restless cat nap. The train shuddered to a complete stop and the doors opened, wafting in the rancid smells of New York City’s underbelly. Erik grabbed his three bags and began navigating his way to the main atrium of Penn Station. He stopped briefly to gather his surroundings before deciding to take the subway to the Upper West Side. With backpack and rolling suitcases in toe, Erik found himself submerged yet again into the underbelly of the city and stopped dead in his tracks. A beautiful voice bounced off the cold concrete walls, his blood running cold. He caught from the corner of his eye a head of long, brown curls and a crystalline voice beckoning him to look.  _ Christine. Christine _ . He quickly glanced over only to find a small group of amateur musicians serenading local commuters.  _ Of course it wouldn’t be her. She’s not here. _ And he quickly turned around and exited the subway, running away from the music.

A line of dirty, yellow taxis lined the exit as Erik reached for the handle of the trunk. A heavily-accented Middle Eastern man emerged from the driver seat and asked where he was going. Erik did a double take as this man looked like Christine’s godfather. Erik quickly blinked away the image of Nadir. “Um, sorry, 101 West 78th Street, please.” Thus beginning the honking, the aggressive breaking, and the nauseating accelerating, followed by more aggressive breaking and darting between cars. The sun’s morning rays of light played hide and seek between the towering skyscrapers and highrises, landing obnoxious blows of blinding light at Erik’s face. How he yearned and longed for the darkness of night. The taxi pulled up and quickly Erik found himself alone outside the building housing the de Chagny condo. 

“May I help you, sir?” asked the elderly doorman. Erik let out an unintentional heavy sigh.

“Yes, I’m Erik Destler. The de Chagnys are lending out their apartment, number 508 to me for the time being. I believe Mrs. de Chagny has left the key for me at the front desk.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Destler, please, this way.” Erik entered the foyer of the complex and was greeted with weary stares from the front desk security officer as well as residents making their way outside to join the masses of morning commuters. “Thomas, this is Erik Destler. Erik, Thomas is the full time security guard. He’ll be able to assist you.”

Thomas was a middle-aged fellow who grew skeptical of the masked young man before him, providing him photo identification as well as the letter from the de Chagnys. “Welcome, Mr. Destler. Elevators to the fifth floor.” Erik crossed the foyer and entered the empty elevator, watching the doors close off the bright sunshine. Upon entering the condo, Erik looked about him. This place was so opposite of the warm, Louis Phillipe-style decor of their manor in Pennsylvania. This place was a blank slate, minimalist in furnishings, decor, and empty. The only item jutting out in stark contrasts of white furniture was the black, glistening baby grand piano, housed in the corner of the living room surrounded by pristinely clean windows, overlooking the heavy wooded, green-leafed trees of Central Park.

Erik set his suitcases and backpack down onto the floor and glanced into the kitchen. There sat a welcome basket of fresh fruit and a handwritten note from the de Chagnys:

_ Darling Erik, please make yourself at home. The maid has stocked the refrigerator with a few items. She comes to clean twice per week on Mondays and Thursdays. Enjoy your stay, and please let Thomas know if there are any issues. _

_ All our love,  
_ _ Raoul Sr. and Victoria de Chagny _

_ P.S. This is the number for a family friend of ours who will be able to procure you a new violin. Please consider this a gift of congratulations on your graduation. Giles Andre, 917-555-6851. _

Erik sighed as he pulled out his cell phone. “Hi Raoul...”

“Hey Erik, how are y-...”

“ERIK!!!!” came the piercing shriek of Meg’s voice in the background as Erik quickly pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince.

* * *

“Mr. Khan, pull up to the front and we’ll wheel her out and assist you with getting her in the car,” the nurse explained. Christine sat stoic and still, her leg propped up in the wheelchair’s leg rest, her arm snuggly tucked against her body in a sling, her pink toes slightly peeking out from underneath the cast.  _ It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why didn’t Erik come? _ Her mind was a flurry of questions of how this could have happened? Could she have fought back harder? Could she have protected herself more? Perhaps she should have taken more drastic measures at the urging of campus police against Kevin? Should she have turned over this case to the state police? And why the hell didn’t Erik show up that night? If it wasn’t for him standing her up, would any of this have happened?  _ Right? No, wrong. It’s not Erik’s fault. It’s your fault, you did this. It’s your fault, Christine, everything is your fault. You didn’t fight hard enough _ . She felt a tear trickle down her face even though she didn’t realize she had begun to cry. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you ok?” Nadir had arrived and squatted down to eye-level.

“Yeah, just pain,” she whispered. She felt sick. And the question she had asked herself just two short years ago after Gustav’s funeral invaded her thoughts once again:  _ how do I survive this? How do I come back from this? I don’t want to be here anymore. _

The nurse and Nadir lifted Christine carefully into the car and fastened her seatbelt in the backseat. Christine jumped at the sound of the door closing. Her memories jolted to the front of Kevin slamming the door on her head. She numbly lifted her fingers to the wound on her head and measured its outline and shape, her hands growing cold, shaky. Nadir looked back and asked, “Are you ready to go to the apartment?” Christine just nodded.

The hour drive from the hospital to Nadir’s apartment in Philadelphia was in complete silence. Christine’s eyes remained closed but she felt Nadir’s glances back at her in the rear view mirror. Nadir pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building and assisted rather haphazardly the crippled Christine into her wheelchair. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Christine confessed timidly.

“Um, ok, uh, well I’ll need to help you if you need it?” Nadir asked cautiously. Christine felt her face flush. “It’s ok, kid, I changed your diapers.” His humor wasn’t helping.

He wheeled Christine into the bathroom as the two attempted to move from wheelchair to commode rather awkwardly. Christine flushed red with embarrassment as something dawned on her rather unexpectedly as she relieved herself. “Nadir…” she choked through tears to Nadir, who was outside the door. “I need… do you have any…” Nadir peeked in to find Christine breaking down in sobs.

“Sweetie, what is it?” he asked with urgent concern. “What happened? Are you ok?”

“My… period just started. I don’t… is there…” she couldn’t finish her statement as Nadir whitened in realization.

“Uh, oh, ok, um, what do I get? CVS is just around the block… do you just want to stay sitting or…?”

Christine sat mortified as she explained the feminine hygiene products she needed and watched Nadir quickly depart for the drugstore. Within 15 minutes, Nadir had returned and placed the coveted items in Christine’s care.

Later during dinner, Nadir received a phone call.

“Mr. Khan, this is Officer Bryant.” Nadir quickly put the phone on speaker and set it on the table between him and Christine.

“Kevin’s been arrested, and the state will be pressing charges.”

Christine’s eyes slid closed, lip quivering, tears glistening her cheeks. “Are you ready for this?” Nadir quietly asked. All she could do was nod.

* * *

Within the blink of an eye, Erik found himself welcoming the autumn season as well as reviewing the upcoming tour schedule with the chamber orchestra. Meg and Raoul checked in frequently, as well as the Girys and the de Chagnys. Thomas the front desk clerk still hadn’t warmed to Erik, but the elderly doorman, Boris, was a growing and endearing relationship. The chamber orchestra welcomed Erik with open arms and were extremely excited about the perspective of this supposed music genius to bring a new vision to the group. 

It wasn’t until the end of September, two weeks before the orchestra was to embark on an Eastern European tour, when Erik received a phone call.

“This Lydia Ramirez with the Pennsylvania District Attorney’s office in Philadelphia. You were an active witness to an accident from this past May at Western Cypress. We are pressing charges against the suspect and will be requiring your presence to testify. You will be served a subpoena within the next few weeks to testify with your required date of attendance.”

Erik got quiet, his hands shaking. He had gone through tremendous efforts to stuff away the horrific memories and the voice of  _ her _ just enough to survive on a daily basis. He threw himself into the deep end of his endeavors with the chamber orchestra, shadowing the maestro, and learning much from the concertmaster. This phone call and the developments of a trial and to serve as a witness to his fallen angel at the hand of Satan’s minion, brought every vivid memory of the past into the present.

* * *

“This is disappointing at best, Erik, but you have to go,” responded Maestro Vladimir Yanich. “We will be moving on to Budapest next week, so do what must be done to comply.”

“Thank you, sir,” responded Erik with a bow. Erik returned to his hotel room and clicked awake his laptop and searched:  _ non-stop flights, Prague to Philadelphia _ .

Darkened purple skies peered into the window of Erik’s room, enveloping an unfeeling bitter, damp cold around him. His mask laid upon the desk as his bony hands rubbed against his aching forehead. The Skype ringtone signaled an incoming call from Raoul and Meg and he quickly replaced his mask. “Hey guys…”

“Hey, we got your email. You’re coming home tomorrow?”

“Yes. My flight lands at Philadelphia around 2PM; would either of you be available to come pick me up?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Email me your flight information,” Raoul casually responded. Meg got up and left the screen to let them chat alone. “So, uh, how are you? When do you have to testify? I’m tomorrow morning, and Meg is on Friday.”

“I am...” Erik paused. What was he feeling? A thought crossed his mind:  _ Will I see Christine at the trial? What will I say to her? What will I say to her godfather? What am I to do? _ “I am fine. Prague has been incredible and I’m learning so much. I’ve been receiving updates about the changes to the music department from Dr. Marrenesco and it sounds like the university has found Dr. Reyer’s replacement for the Dean of the College of Music.”

“Oh wow, really? Do you know who it might be?”

“Apparently he is a retired opera singer from the Met in New York City, and who's been on the lecture circuit for a few years. He’s an oddity from what I understand, a tenor,” Erik responded, emphasizing sarcastically the word tenor. Nothing loathed him more than the overuse and stagnant voice of a male tenor. “His name is Dr. Ubaldo Piangi, but apparently he prefers being addressed as Senor Piangi. And apparently his wife is also a retired opera soprano from the Italian circuit… Carlotta something-or-other.”

“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Raoul stated. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. There’s just a lot going on and I’m not looking forward to the flight tomorrow. Apparently according to Dr. Marrenesco, Dr. Piangi and his little ingenue are not exactly thrilled with how my doctoral recital is structured and are requesting a revised plan. It makes no sense. They don’t want prepared pieces for the first half of the recital. They are preferring three prepared vocal pieces instead with the symphony to follow. Piangi feels I need to be writing an aria for soprano, no doubt for Carlotta. Dr. Marrenesco is advocating as much as he can on my behalf as well as Dr. Reyer; however, I feel it may not be enough.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Erik,” Raoul replied. “But, given how you destroyed what you already wrote back in May…”

“Enough!” Erik brashly interrupted. “I care not to discuss the events of May. Move on.”

* * *

“Keep breathing, Miss Chris. Five more lifts and then we’ll take a break. And five, breathe; and four, nice; and three, good; and two, come on, just one more, you got this; and one. And… rest,” the physical therapist’s falsetto of cheap chimes of encouragement was infuriating. It was August, the longest summer of her life. Even the summer after Gustav’s death wasn’t this emotionally and physically painful. The onslaught of question after question after question after question, forcing her to talk about her most private, intimate moments with Kevin. The excruciatingly painful physical therapy which started just two months ago. The whole summer could be summarized in just one painful word: invasive.

There was no more privacy. Nadir had to help undress her so she could take a shower and initially had to assist her to the bathroom. Christine wanted to resent him so much, she resented him for allowing her dad to give up and forgo cancer treatment. She resented him for sending that email to Kevin back in the winter warning him to stop the harassment.  _ A lot of good that did; it just pissed him off even more _ . She was more resentful that her dad wasn’t here.  _ He should be here. He should be alive. Damn fool didn’t want to fight. He gave up _ . Another thought would, every once in awhile, make itself known:  _ maybe I should just give up _ . And it terrified her.

* * *

Another five weeks into physical therapy was when the call came through: the district attorney’s office was assigned a trial date by the arraignment hearing. Jury selections were starting in three days. A trial. Kevin pled not guilty to charges of attempted involuntary manslaughter and aggravated assault and simple assault. “You know you’ll have to face him, Christine,” Nadir said matter-of-factly. He was right. There was no glossing over this fact: Christine would have to confront Kevin again, for one last fight.  _ One last fight; make it count. You can’t give up now _ .

Her resolve, however, floundered the night before the trial was to begin. Again, the recurring nightmare from the summer came barreling towards her. It was the same nightmare, details never changing. The heated, passionate kisses exploring her neck, hands once gentle quickly changing to rough and heavy. The biting, gnashing of teeth at the base of her throat. His words verbally beating her to a pulp: “No one will love like I do, Christine. No one… NO ONE!” Again she would wake with a start, sweat soaked, tears blurring her vision, heart racing, breathing unsteady, frantic. 

* * *

“I’m not going, I can’t go. I won’t do it, and you can’t make me,” Christine said blankly. Nadir blinked at her in astonishment.

“Christine, you need to be there. It’ll help you heal,” but he quickly stopped his words as Christine flashed him a look filled with spite and hatred. “Ok, ok. But you can’t run from this forever. And you will be required to testify next week.”

“Stop being a lawyer for just one fucking minute!” she shouted, tears flowing freely. “Just stop it! I don’t want to hear it anymore. For just this once, I’m begging you to stop being an attorney and be my GODFATHER!” Christine uneasily teetered on her crutches, and hit her forehead harder than intended against the hallway wall, choking down the knot in her throat that wanted to explode and unleash fury and hell.

“Forgive me,” Nadir whispered ever so quietly. “I’ll be home after opening arguments. I’m sorry.”

“The Commonwealth calls Mr. Erik Destler to the stand,” Ms. Ramirez announced to the court. The jurors as well as the attorneys and judge shifted uncomfortably with concern as this tall figure, dressed in black approached the witness stand wearing a brilliantly white mask on one side of his face.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” the bailiff recited.

“I do.”

“Mr. Destler, please state for the record your full name and occupation?”

“Erik Christoph Destler, doctoral student at Western Cypress University, currently on tour via mentorship with the New York City Chamber Orchestra.”

The questions and answers recited about the night of the accident were par for the course. No surprises. It went smoothly, uninterrupted, until the defense began its questioning. 

“Mr. Destler, what’s your relationship with the defendant's significant other?”

“I beg your pardon?” Erik questioned. The ADA looked confused, but didn’t object.

“It’s a simple question, Mr. Destler. What was your relationship with Ms. Daae?”

“There was no relationship, sir. I simply figured her a student.”

“I see. Thank you. No more questions your honor,” Kevin’s attorney smugly retorted. And Erik was dismissed.

“Thank you. Court is adjourned until Monday morning at 9:00AM. Enjoy the weekend, folks.”

Erik stepped down from the stand and made his way down the aisle and opened the doors to leave. Halfway down the vacant hallway, the name uttered from him behind him caused him to stop dead.

“Mr. Khan,” Ms. Ramirez called to Nadir, who was about to enter the courtroom. “Judge dismissed already for the weekend since the last witness completed his testimony.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t make it today. Christine’s physical therapy went extremely late this afternoon, and I guess I lost track of time.”

Erik felt sick.  _ Oh God, is she here? _ His feet grew a mind of their own as they turned Erik around and began moving him closer to Nadir. Intentions unknown.

“It’s ok, we have the weekend to prepare and also get Christine ready for Monday. Monday will be a very long day for her, so I advise you to prepare her. The defense will not go easy on her, and this will be very difficult for her.”

“I understand. She’ll be ready.” The sounds of lumbering footsteps had Nadir look over his shoulder to see the tall, lanky figure dressed in black quickly about-face and rush for the exit. “I’m curious, Lydia. Who testified today?”

“Erik Destler.” Nadir felt his heart drop, his eyes scoured furiously around the hallways looking for the individual he knew was just behind him, but Erik was gone.

* * *

“How’d it go?” Meg asked as Erik entered their apartment with a shrug. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Erik replied. “Nothing.” That was a lie. He wanted to say he saw Nadir, that he wanted to talk to him, to beg for his forgiveness for not doing more for their precious Christine.

“Yeah, ours was simple and to the point. I think the girl’s godfather was there on the day you testified, right Raoul?” Meg questioned.

“Yeah, I think so. He just sat in the back of the courtroom listening. But I didn't see the girl though… Kristen, or something?”

“Christine,” Erik quietly corrected. “Her name is Christine.”

“Right,” Raoul blinked. “Erik, when do you have to leave to head back to Budapest?”

“I can’t depart yet. Not until the ADA says I can, at least, I think. She didn’t tell me I was free to move on.”  _ I’ve  _ been _ trying to move on… _

Monday morning was unseasonably cold, cloudy, dark, and rainy. The dampness and the cold made her body ache. With the changing weather, it was getting harder to move without dull pain coursing through her. Christine was in no mood to tackle the daunting onslaught of questioning awaiting her.

“The Commonwealth calls Christine Daae to the stand,” Ms. Ramirez stated.

Christine grabbed her crutches, and with Nadir’s assistance was able to stand up and hobble to the stand. As with her angel of music just a few days prior, Christine swore to tell the truth.

The ADA was kind. The ADA was gentle. The ADA made things easy. “No further questions, Your Honor. Thank you, Christine.”

“Mr. Francis, your witness.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Kevin’s defense attorney flashed a smug, condescending smirk towards Christine. Christine only briefly glanced up and felt Kevin’s eyes ruthlessly boring into her. She swallowed her fear. “Ms. Daae, I’d like for you to go back to the night of the accident. Is it true you were to meet someone after your last final that evening?”

Christine felt like she got hit by a truck. “Yes,” she whispered. 

“Hmm, interesting. Who were you to meet?” Well, that was the question, wasn’t it?  _ Yeah, I was about to meet this man who played music with me but I’ve never spoken to him ever before. But the sound of his voice sent my soul into a new dimension not of this world _ . “Ms. Daae?”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?”

“Who were you to meet that night?”

“I, uh, had an appointment to meet a fellow student to play a duet.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie.

“A fellow student? You’d never met this person before?”

“Yes… we, uh, had never really met… only played music together in adjoining practice rooms.”

A menacing chuckle. “Ms. Daae, I’m no musician, but how can you play music with someone you’ve never met and sit in separate rooms?” A chuckle rumbled through the jurors as well. Christine flushed with embarrassment. She felt a growing anger.

The judge hit his gavel. “Order. Counselor, this line of questioning is trying my patience and serves no point. Move on.

“Of course, Your Honor. Ms. Daae, the DA asked previously about certain intimate details of your relationship with Mr. Trickman. You were sexually involved, correct?”

“Yes,” Christine spat back, trying hard to push down her rage. He wanted to make a fool of her, to somehow prove how mentally unsound she was… or is. 

“Did he ever rape you?”

“OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR!” shouted Ms. Ramirez.

“SCREW YOU!” Christine shouted. “SHUT UP!!” she screamed as the judge banged the gavel. 

“ORDER, this instance, order in my courtroom! Ms. Daae, you WILL compose yourself and refrain from such language in my courtroom. Counselor, your line of questioning is irrelevant and this line of questioning will be stricken from the record. The jury will disregard this part of the testimony. We will take a 20 minute recess for all parties to compose themselves. We are adjourned until 2:40PM.”

Christine and Nadir sat in a heavy silence near the windows outside the courtroom. Christine wiping tears from her eyes. Lydia Ramirez approached cautiously. “I’m so sorry, Christine - I should’ve objected earlier. He shouldn’t have gone down that road.”

“I’m not going back in there; I can’t sit in front of him anymore. I won’t sit and take those kinds of questions anymore. It’s no one’s business. He had no right…” but she dropped off. “I just want this over and done.”

“I think we’re done with your testimony, but we’ll verify when we go back in. Just hang in there for a few more minutes.”

* * *

“The charges against Mr. Trickman are attempted involuntary manslaughter, aggravated assault, and simple assault. A guilty verdict cannot be based upon a suspicion of guilt. Therefore, it is not enough that the Commonwealth’s evidence merely casts doubt upon the innocence of the defendant or that it leaves you believing simply that he is probably guilty. Rather, to find the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, you must be convinced of his guilt to the same degree you would be convinced about a matter of importance in your own life in which you would act with confidence and without restraint or hesitation.” Christine barely paid much attention to the judge’s words of formality and rolled her eyes in silent defiance.

It was the last day. The days themselves went by so painfully slow, like trudging through swamps of thick, tarry mud that would yank your boots off. The whole trial process felt rushed, fast, and not well executed. At least that was Nadir’s opinion. Christine, on the other hand, simply wanted this done and over and somehow find the strength to muster forward to her recovery. Physical therapy was not only physically exhausting, but the emotional and mental strength she somehow mustered was even more trying and difficult.

Today was the last day of the trial. The judge rambled on and on to the jury their instructions, something about burden of proof, and this being a civic duty of due process.  _ Burden of proof, pfft; like my wrecked body isn’t proof enough _ , Christine scoffled to herself.

“If after this consideration, you find that the Commonwealth has convinced you that the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, you should find Mr. Trickman guilty. Otherwise, you must find the defendant not guilty.” The smack of the gavel broke Christine from her thoughts as she watched the jury be dismissed for the day, with deliberations beginning first thing in the morning.

“I will call you tomorrow should the deliberations be concluded by then. Have a good night,” the state’s legal team bid their farewells to Nadir and Christine.

Erik’s phone rang. “Mr. Destler, hello, this is Lydia Ramirez. We will be entering into closing arguments tomorrow. There are no further actions required on your part. Again, I thank you for traveling back from your doctoral program obligations to offer your testimony. Best of luck with your degree.”

“Thank you,” he offered and hung up. “I anticipate you both will get the same call shortly. It’s all over and apparently the jury will deliberate in a few days.”

“I’m glad this is over. Maybe we can finally get back to our lives. But I do hope everything works out and that creep is locked up,” replied Meg.

“I guess. Just means I can’t postpone studying for the LCATs anymore,” Raoul responded. “So Erik, what’s the plan now?”

“Leave. Arrange my travel and leave. I’ll have to notify Maestro of my arrival to Budapest and make my travel arrangements tonight.”

“So soon? Can’t you stay for a few extra days? We’ve missed you,” Meg grew quiet. It was true. Both her and Raoul felt empty without Erik as a constant presence in their lives after everything that had happened just five months ago. “Let’s go out for a last dinner before you leave. Who's up for Iron Hill tonight?”

The trio walked along the streetlamp-lined brick sidewalks to the downtown area of Western Cypress. The air had become cooler now and the anticipation of the seasons changing loomed closeby. Soon the old, worn down brick sidewalks would welcome the blanket of colorful autumn leaves, the smells of pumpkin lattes wafting from every local coffee shop, the emergence of oranges and browns and golds would soon serve as decor for Halloween and Thanksgiving. And not before too long, the season of perpetual hope would perhaps bring forth… something more. They rounded the corner and Erik stopped in his tracks. Flashbacks from the night of the accident burned his memories. He suddenly could smell the hot metal, the gasoline fumes, the sound of her gut-wrenching screams and cries. He could feel the cutting of the glass shards ripping through his hand, he could feel her battered and bruised skin upon his fingertips. He could smell the scent of her hair - the subtleness of rosewater and lavender.

“Erik, you ok?” Meg asked.

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. Everything was a lie.  _ The sooner I can get away from here, the better _ .

“We, the jury, find Kevin Trickman not guilty on both counts of attempted involuntary manslaughter and aggravated assault. We find the defendant guilty of simple assault.”

Audible sighs of relief and the smacking of congratulatory handshakes echoed through the courtroom. “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me,” Nadir fumed under his breath. Christine sat in complete silence, refusing to move, unable to breathe.  _ Not guilty… not guilty _ .

“Your Honor, the Commonwealth would like to poll the jury,” countered a seething Lydia Ramirez.

“Very well. Juror one?”

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

“Juror two?”

“Not guilty.”

Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Over and over those two words were on endless repeat. Over and over, those two words solidified into Christine that perhaps Kevin really, truly wasn’t to blame. She simply did not fight hard enough. “Get me out of here, Uncle Nadir; just get me out of here,” she pled.

“I thank the jurors for their time during this trial. A date for sentencing will be decided in four weeks. Court is adjourned.” The gavel slammed onto the judgement bench as the courtroom began to clear out.

“Mr. Khan, Ms. Daae. We will work with the court to get sentencing scheduled as soon as possible. This isn’t the outcome we wanted but I do feel we’ll get a strong sentence for simple assault. We’ll be in touch.”

* * *

“You’ve changed.” It was such a simple statement, but one which laid heavily between them. “I just don’t understand, but you’ve changed. What’s going on, Erik?” Meg’s question lingered heavily in the car ride to the airport. But it was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

The dichotomy of Erik’s situation was complex. The world of Western Cypress was really his home, with fond memories of a growing and loving friendship with Raoul and Meg. It offered him security, stability, something so completely opposite of life before coming to this sleepy town. But the world of Western Cypress was also home to another side of his life he wanted to remain hidden. That other world was Christine. A world in which Christine’s voice and music created and inspired and fueled his ambitions for greatness. That night so many months ago changed everything and forced that new world to crumble and collapse around him. Everything inside Erik wanted to start anew, and he wanted to forget her voice. Wanted to forget her singing. Wanted to forget. “Erik?” Meg’s voice broke him from his reverie.

“Everything changes. The only thing constant is change.” The car pulled up to the terminal. “I’ll be in touch upon my arrival to Budapest.”

Hugs exchanged, Meg and Raoul watched their friend disappear into the airport.

* * *

The flights were long. Getting to Budapest shouldn’t have been this trying, but three airports and two long, separate layovers in Frankfurt and Istanbul, Erik finally reached the sleepy city of Budapest. All he wanted to do was rest. The events of the trial, revisiting Iron Hill and the site of the carnage that forever changed him, the weight of his regret and remorse and guilt made his body ache. But sleep and rest would have to wait. Rehearsals were well underway for the new concert series in Budapest with the star of the Budapest opera, mezzo-soprano Liliana Papp.

The day after his return, Erik found his way to the concert hall to begin rehearsals. He greeted the concertmaster and entered the back office to have his meeting with Maestro Yanich. “Ahh, Erik, welcome back! You missed a brilliant end to our series in Prague. I’m sorry you had to miss it!”

“As am I, Maestro. But now, I’m ready to begin again.”

“Da, da, yes indeed. Good. Now, I’d like to take you to introduce you to Liliana Papp. We have prepared select pieces from Hannibal by Chalumeau which she will take the lead on, especially the aria from Act III. Come, let me introduce you.”

Erik and Yanich passed through several short hallways before reaching the hall of the dressing rooms. Emanating from one of the rooms came one of the most beautiful, full voices Erik had ever heard. One that was reminiscent of another’s voice, not so long ago. The voice of Christine. The voice was beholden to long, brown curls with blonde highlights. Her hair reminiscent of another’s hair. Christine. “Madame Papp, may I introduce Mr. Erik Destler.” And she turned to face Erik, and an audible gasp escaped passed his lips. It was like looking at a mirror image of Christine, only much taller, her height matching his own, but with the aged look of a woman who had experienced all of life’s fullest ecstasies. 

“Destler?” she questioned with a heavily Slovak accent. “We have similar surname in Hungary. Desztler. A family lineage?” She held out her delicate, pale hand. Erik’s long, cold fingers gently grasped hers in a shaking countenance. 

“An honor to meet you, Chr-... Liliana,” Erik whispered. The ghost of Ms. Christine Daae had seemed to have followed him over a vast, blue ocean, over the highest peaks of mountains, to continue to haunt him the rest of his days.  _ God is so cruel _ .

* * *

It was now the beginning of November. And just like the year before, winter promised to unleash its fury of brutal cold and sheets of unforgiving ice. The ice and the cold were unforgiving to the healing of the injuries, both physically and mentally. Nadir had noticed shortly after the verdict was announced that the brightness of Christine’s soul began to quickly dim. The last time he saw any semblance of joy was the night of the accident; the night she was supposed to finally meet  _ him _ . But now, today, today was the day of sentencing. Somehow, both Christine and Nadir felt unsettling gloom.

The pair sat quietly in the back of the courtroom, awaiting the arrival of the judge. Christine stared at the floor while holding onto Nadir’s arm for dear life. She could feel the eyes glaring at her from the general direction of the defense table. “All rise!” the bailiff announced.

“Please be seated.” And silence fell over the courtroom. And the sentencing, or lack thereof, was announced: 200 hundred hours of community service plus an additional 200 hours volunteering at a battered women’s shelter.

“All rise!” the bailiff announced again. Christine felt tremors coursing through Nadir and heard the harsh exhales from his nose.

“Christine, please go wait in the lobby. I need to speak with the ADA.” Christine rounded the corner and found a nearby bench, sat down and waited for Nadir. Tears threatening to escape.  _ Hold it together; not here, not now, not in front of these people. Keep it together _ . Her pep talk was only briefly holding up the dam threatening to burst. She startled and jumped at the loud yelling she had never heard:

“You overreached! And because of your agenda and the agenda of your office, you LOST this case. This ruling isn’t a punishment; it’s a get outta jail free card! How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?!”

And shortly Nadir quickly rounded the corner and plucked Christine off the bench like she weighed no more than a feather. “Unbelievable. Self-righteous politicians. DAMN IT!” he growled furiously under his breath. He was trying so hard to keep it together. He had to; he had to be strong for Christine.

The car ride back to the apartment was in a deafening silence. Rain angrily pelted on the windshield and Christine’s body ached. Finally they pulled into the parking garage and Nadir shut off the engine with a heavy sigh. “Chrissie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I failed you. I failed Gus. I failed everything I promised to him before…” composure lost, tears escaping his so very tired, old eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Christine, forgive me, please forgive me.”

There was nothing to say. And any words that formed wouldn’t make things any better. And so they sat, crying together. “I love you, Uncle Nadir. I love you.”

* * *

It was late, close to midnight, as they sat together in silence. Christine nursing her hot tea and taking her pain meds. Nadir sat in quiet repose in his recliner. “Let’s get outta here… let’s just… leave.” The quiet cadence of words interrupted Nadir from his thoughts.

“Leave? Like a vacation?”

“No, more like, for good,” Christine stated matter-of-factly.

Nadir softly chuckled. “Where would we go?” He took the bait.

“Arizona… we could just go. Leave. Get an apartment out there. The weather would be better for physical therapy anyway.”

“Not sure if I can leave the law firm right now, kiddo.”

“You have a partner now, take a leave of absence. Start something in Arizona.”

“Sweetie, I’m not licensed to practice law out there.” She was really serious about this, wasn’t she?

“Please?”

Silence.

“Uncle Nadir?”

Silence.  _ She needs a fresh start. She deserves this much _ .

“OK.”

“Really? You’d really go?”

“Yes; let me make some calls and we’ll do it. Next month.”

And for the first time in six long, painful months, a smile radiated upon Christine’s face.


	15. Erik’s Solace

**Chapter 15: Erik’s Solace**

**_Hungary - Winter 2004  
_ ** Erik couldn’t focus. His mind toyed with him: was Liliana a reincarnation of Christine meant to torment him for all eternity? Was Liliana truly the one Erik was meant to be with instead? His stomach rolled in knots, his dry throat tensed whenever she drew near to him. 

The free cadenza of Liliana’s rendition of “Think of Me” sent Erik’s soul soaring. Her glassy, crystalline voice rich with experience hung suspended in the air, echoing off everything in the concert hall. Erik watched from his second chair next to the concertmaster, his violin tucked under his chin, his bow shaking unsteadily as Lilana’s voice rang clear. He was late on the entrance, which immediately drew the ire and scorn of both maestro and concertmaster alike. Wrath would have to wait until the end of the performance. The audience launched to their feet in deafening applause. It was the perfect ending to opening night. The afterparty was another grand performance. White tie for Hungary’s elite class, the social imbalance of Budapest obscenely clear. It made Erik uncomfortable. The ire and wrath of the maestro was gentler than anticipated with the free flowing of wine and spirits. Perhaps no punishment would be needed after all. 

As the afterparty began to dissipate, Erik found himself alone in the auditorium sitting at the piano. A melody quietly playing which echoed a song he had sung to  _ her _ . He stopped when the gentle clacking of high heels and swish of tulle fabric reached his ears from behind. “That music,” Liliana observed, “I hear it is very sad… perhaps, oh what you Americans say,  _ full of regret _ ?” 

Erik chuckled, “Remorseful?” Liliana slightly blushed in embarrassment. Her timid smirk sending Erik’s heart fluttering. She came to sit beside him on the piano bench. “I must confess, Liliana, you sang beautifully,” Erik replied. She smiled again and Erik’s heart leapt into his throat as Liliana reached her arm up to curl around his. 

“Good night,” she said as she placed a soft kiss upon the masked side of his face.

* * *

They spent every waking moment together, engrossed in conversations of music, of life, of travel. Erik wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but it happened abruptly. Perhaps it was during a New Years Eve Masquerade Ball when Erik really  _ saw _ Liliana for the first time. She descended the staircase of the opera house dressed in an exquisite gown of sapphire blue, the golden spun overlay was a map of stars and constellations. A star princess, she called herself. Erik dressed in scarlet red garbs, mimicking the Red Death. A waltz played as the two danced, dark reds and blues blending together in the low light to become hues of purple. The room had grown too warm, and as always, Liliana offered, “Walk with me outside.”

Arm in arm, they escaped the madness of the masquerade, shrieks of wine-induced laughter and taunting echoed on the staircase outside the opera house. They idly chatted when their conversation was broken up with a gasp escaping Liliana’s throat. “Look!” she pointed upwards, “a shooting star! Oh stars of wonder, have you ever seen anything of such beauty and elegance?” It was so out of character for him, but he couldn’t stop himself. He found her lips very awkwardly, his black mask bumping and shifting against his face as his lips stumbled onto hers. Liliana abruptly pushed him back. “Erik?” And his gaze grew frantic.

“Liliana… Ms. Papp, dear madam, Oh God, forgive me. I am so very sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t… I wanted…” he was quickly collapsing into himself. She must have noticed his absolute fear and panic as he flinched away as she brought her hand to the bare side of his face.

“Édesem,” she whispered softly. Erik didn’t understand. “Em, how do you say,  _ sweetheart _ .” And pressed a small soft kiss upon his cheek. “Come, we must return. They will be missing us now.”

* * *

After every performance, Erik and Liliana fell into an odd routine. It wasn’t until their third afterparty encounter that Liliana asked Erik out for a nightcap. “Come, have a drink with me. A small cafe down the street, about two kilometers from here. Walk with me.”

Erik was nervous. He closed his eyes as Liliana turned to leave. This felt strange. Shouldn’t it have happened this way with Christine instead? Erik was tormented. Liliana’s voice broke through, “Erik?” She held out her hand and Erik followed, and watched in awe as Liliana again wound her arm through his. She wasn’t shocked or embarrassed or even afraid of what anyone would think being seen with a tall, masked man in public. She thought nothing of it; nothing shocked this woman. And Erik wondered how this could possibly be. All he could think was the night Christine’s eyes froze wide with shock and horror upon seeing his mask that night in the music building. He had to fight back the urge to run away from Liliana and the rest of Budapest for what he feared should be a typical reaction towards him.

Erik tensed even more and Liliana felt his body go rigid upon exiting the Magyar Opera House onto the gaslamp-lit street. She slowed their gait and stopped, turning to face Erik. Her own towering height matching his, her gorgeous mahogany brown curls illuminated by the lights. “Erik, be not afraid. I welcome those who are different.” And she smiled, placing her hand upon his mask. His eyes fluttered closed as he let out a small sigh. “Come, let us walk.”

Once at the cafe, Liliana dove into her past and regaled Erik tales of her family, her heritage, her music. 

“How does it not bother you to be seen with me?” Erik blurted out after Liliana took a long sip of hot tea. She chuckled.

“Édesem, you must not understand what I’ve been telling you. Did you not understand?” Her smile tinged with sadness. “I tell you these things and hope you would see. I am an outsider. My name Papp, it is not mine.”

It all made sense. Everything she said; every interaction with him; every ounce of understanding she bestowed of course pointed to this. “Édesem, I changed my last name. My family name is Abonyi; my  _ nagyapa  _ killed in Auschwitz.”

“Nagyapa?” Erik pressed.

“Eh, how do you say, father’s father?”

“Grandfather. Your grandfather was killed in Auschwitz.”

She laughed. “You are a true English detective Homes!”

“Holmes, Liliana. I believe you mean Sherlock Holmes,” Erik corrected quietly. Liliana laughed animatedly. She knew and understood what it was like. Something inside Erik made him feel… understood.

“Tell me, Erik,” she responded wiping her laugh-induced tears away. “What happened to you? Your past…” 

“No. I cannot tell you,” Erik cut her off abruptly. Erik recalled only telling one other soul what happened that dreadful night on his fifthteenth birthday. Only Raoul knew and he was sworn to silence. No one was to know that Erik was a murderer.

* * *

The rest of the winter in Budapest made Erik feel not as cold. Liliana sought him out after every performance, with the two of them sitting in near silence on an empty stage, her arm entwined with his. He felt warm and craved her presence. Spring was coming and with the new season brought a new destination. It wasn’t until their final performance when Erik asked her at dinner one evening, “Come with me? Come with me to Florence.”

Liliana was rather surprised. “Erik, I cannot go with you. My life is here; my career…”

“You can sing in Florence! I can’t bear to…”

“Be alone,” Liliana continued for him. “Édesem, whatever you are running from, I am not your answer.” Her voice was gentle yet firm, like a parent embracing a child in a reassuring hug while offering firm guidance and advice. 

“You know nothing of what you speak,” Erik spat back quietly, swallowing the lump clogging his throat. Tears threatening to escape.

“Then tell me, Erik… tell me who she is. Walk with me.” They quickly paid for their meal and exited the restaurant. It was the end of February, and a new soft blanket of snow began to fall. They walked for a long time in silence, the dusting of powder crunching softly beneath their feet.

“I can’t, Liliana… I just can’t.”

They walked again in silence, but somehow Liliana knew. “Édesem, how your heart aches. And how you lost someone,” she responded softly. It was the end of February, and Italy awaited the New York City Chamber Orchestra in a week. 

* * *

**_Italy - Spring 2005_ **

Closing night of their final performance in Florence went beautifully, and by the end of April, the orchestra was about to make a remarkable performance in Tuscany. Erik’s symphony was starting to take form, and Maestro Yanich was eager to give a sneak peak before their year-long tour was to come to a close.

Erik and Liliana exchanged multiple emails and kept in touch. Erik felt he might be falling in love with her, but wondered constantly why Liliana was holding back and potentially not returning his feelings. She often probed him to talk more about the mysterious someone she knew held Erik’s heart and about his life back in the United States; she wanted to know more, which unnerved Erik. Nothing good ever came from poking around and asking heavy questions, but he tried to brush it off as a cultural difference.  _ Perhaps all Eastern Europeans are like this? _

The orchestra took the train from Florence to Tuscany. During the ride, that’s when Erik received an incoming Skype call. “Hi Raoul, hi Meg! Wow, it’s so good to see you both! How are you?” And without a word, Raoul grabbed Meg’s left hand and held it to the camera. “Shout from the rooftops of the world, you’ve finally asked her to marry you!” Erik grinned ear to ear.

“Yeah, it took him long enough!” Meg giggled.

“And somehow I convinced her I was the best option,” Raoul jabbed back.

“I had no better offers at the time, Raoul. You were the ONLY option!” And the tricky trio erupted in laughter.

“Oh my friends, I’m so incredibly happy for you. Have you decided on a date?”

“We’re thinking of a beach wedding in early October of 2007, in about another two years, which gives us plenty of time to plan and make arrangements for our guests. Raoul will be halfway through law school by then and clerking somewhere so the timing will work out best,” Meg offered.

Raoul chimed in with a proposition. “Erik, we’d be honored if you could write a song for our wedding day. And I would be very happy if you would be a groomsman. Obviously Phillipe will be the best man, if he can get his act together and show up. But most importantly, we need and want you there to share our day.”

Erik smiled, and bringing his hands together in a movement of humility said, “I would be honored to bestow this to you both. I love you dearly.” Meg and Raoul responded with smiling thanks and love and graciousness. They shortly thereafter ended their conversation, leaving Erik feeling an empty longing in his heart.

The train slowly lurched into the station, and just as Erik was about to disembark, he peered out the window and there, standing before him on the platform, stood a beautifully tall woman, luxurious mahogany brown curls wound up into a loose bun. “Liliana!” gasped Erik as his arms found their way around her. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Édesem! Oh, Erik, did Maestro not tell you? He invited me to finish out your performances in Italy and make a debut for your final concert series in Paris in the fall. Is that not exciting?” Her long arms found themselves wrapped around her tall friend’s, her hands seeking their way to his face, and she placed a soft kiss to his exposed cheek. 

The pair navigated their way through the streets of Tuscany, catching up and sharing laughs. God it was so good to see her, to touch her, to hear her. “So Yanich wants you here for ‘Think of Me?’ I’m not at all surprised, Liliana. With that song, you sing like an angel.” 

* * *

“Signoire, a package arrived for you. Please sign,” chimed a voice behind the concierge. 

“Oh, grazi,” responded Erik. He signed his name and inspected the rather damaged and overstuffed bubble mailer. “Hmm, Dr. Reyer. Wonder what this is?” Erik headed out to the garden terrace and ordered a hot tea. The mug clinked onto the table as he ran his long fingers under the tape. His brow furrowed further as he reached into the envelope and pulled out… “No, no,” he whispered in shuttered breaths. The worn down notebooks were stacked neatly together with a note placed on top:

_ Dear Erik, _

_ Thank you for taking care of the house during my travels the past two years. The time away was welcomed, but I’m happy to be home. As I was getting some organizing done around the house, I found these under the bed in the guest room. I assumed they were yours and accidentally left them behind, so I wanted to get these back to you. Very exquisite work, Erik. You have an artist’s eye. _

_ I hear Dean Piangi has demanded changes to your PhD structure. I will try to advocate for you as much as I can but I’m afraid I don’t have much pull or say. _

_ I send you my best. I look forward to seeing you when you return next year. _

_ Respectfully yours,  
_ _ Monty Reyer _

Erik sprung to his feet, breath shaking unsteadily, and hurled his body towards the elevators, the sketchbooks clutched tightly to his chest. He didn’t notice Liliana standing inside the elevator when the doors opened. He barreled through and plowed into her. “Édesem?”

“Do NOT call me that!!” And she watched astounded as Erik’s tightly balled fist punched the button to his floor. “Stop calling me that. Stop it, just stop!” Liliana crumbled into the corner, wide-eyed and shocked. The elevator dinged and the doors opened; Erik took off down the hall. He fumbled with the key to his room, his breathing ragged with rage and sadness and panic. Liliana cautiously approached, and gently took the key from Erik. A drop of his tears fell upon her hand as she reached to open the door and guide Erik through the threshold. Upon entering, all the notebooks clamored to the floor as Erik staggered into the room, standing in front of the window which overlooked the busyness of Tuscany below. Liliana picked up the notebooks carefully and sat in the chair next to the window, glancing up at Erik. His eyes were closed, sobs coming freely but quietly; she didn’t dare speak. Cautiously, she opened the sketchbook and gasped. Staring up at her from the stark white page was the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen. Page after page after page, she saw long, flowing curls, the saddest eyes of this young woman. Liliana opened the second sketchbook. More sketches of the same young woman. Finally getting to the last page of the last sketchbook, she let out an audible gasp which broke Erik from his turmoil. The picture was dark, ominous… the site of a horrific crumbled car smashed against a building, a bunch of smaller sketches loomed in the corners of the page. It wasn’t until her eyes reached the bottom right corner when she saw the same beautiful young woman who had graced the multitude of pages earlier, but this time, she lay in broken carnage, the ethereal glow Erik had sketched previously had been extinguished. The young woman had lost her glow.

“Oh Erik, this is… is this? Is this the one?” Liliana could barely speak above a whisper. She watched as Erik’s shoulders slumped downward and let out a sigh. The sunset caused the room to be illuminated with hues of pinks and purples and yellows. Under normal circumstances, perhaps the colors would have been romantic. However, on this evening, it was like the sun knew it was about to set on this chapter. Just as he was about to speak, the phone rang. “Yes, we will be right down.” Erik turned to Liliana. “That was the front desk. The orchestra is assembling to catch the shuttle to the concert hall. I need to get ready.” Lilian silently exited Erik’s room and waited with the others for Erik.

The shuttle ride to the concert hall was in complete silence between Erik and Liliana. She watched his movements and she could tell his mind was working furiously, reliving something he could never tell her. The finale of the concert was Liliana singing “Think of Me,” and Erik didn’t miss the tone of her performance as she sang with saddened honesty. By now it was the beginning of May, which meant springtime in Italy and the spring concert series had come to an end. This was their last night in Italy before heading to Austria for the summer. The quick summer tour would be followed by a long autumn and Christmas grand finale in Paris to conclude the year long tour. Tonight, however, served as the night of confessional as Liliana had settled on getting answers.

After the performance, Erik and Liliana hung back as they always did. The pair sitting together on the empty stage inside the empty concert hall. But tonight, Liliana kept her distance as she stood before Erik, his fingers completely still upon the keys. “Erik, the young woman in those drawings… tell me that is her.” 

Erik sat completely still, unwilling to meet Liliana’s eyes. “I won’t talk about her; I can’t.”

“You must, Erik. You have been running for so long away from my questions. You refuse to speak of her, and today, she reappeared to you. Tell me about her. Who is she? After everything, you owe me that much.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Be as it may; but you owe it yourself above all.” At that, Erik’s eyes locked onto hers. The overwhelming sense of defeat and guilt and heartbreak finally broke him. “You cannot carry this alone anymore. Please, tell me.”

Erik finally broke down. He spilled everything: how he first heard Christine singing in August 2003, how her voice inspired him; how she would disappear for weeks on end and then suddenly appear like an angel; how they sang and played together without ever meeting. And finally, he retold the details of the horrific night exactly one year ago this night. How he heard her screams and cries of agony and pain caused at the hands of her lover; how he pulled her from the carnage of the accident; how he held her on the dimly lit sidewalk; how he sang to her…. How he failed her; how he disappointed her; how he couldn’t keep her safe. Liliana sat upon the stage floor, tears pooled in her eyes but she didn’t dare say a word.

“And then, after Raoul and Meg dropped me off, I snapped. I destroyed everything. I destroyed whatever notes I had composed. She had unknowingly suffered at my hands. I could’ve stopped the whole night from even happening. I could’ve saved her,” Erik sunk to his knees with a crack onto the stage floor, his hands shaking, reaching and wanting to rake and rip through his face again just like they had that very night. He reached up to his mask, wanting to rip the damned thing off and expose his full ugliness to Liliana as almost proof that he was to blame based solely upon his face. Liliana fell before him, catching and grasping firmly Erik’s wrists, shoving and pulling them away from his face.

“No, do not…do that. Do not place blame upon yourself. People like that lover of hers would have found a way to destroy her, whether or not you had gone to her that night. People like him, NOT YOU, embody true evil and ugliness. It is not your fault,” she pleaded, bringing his hands up to her lips. “It is not your fault.” Another soft kiss to his hands. “It is not your fault.” And Erik plummeted into Liliana, his hands breaking free from her grasp and cradled her face with his long fingers. His lips parted in a ragged huff against her own. He wanted to lose himself and drown in the depths of this woman before him, he wanted to escape, to keep running from the hauntings of his life. 

“No, Édesem, no… no,” he heard Liliana whispering under his desperate pants. She broke him away from her as gently as she could, watching Erik achingly slink away from her, pushing himself onto the piano bench. “Your heart is elsewhere, with another; and her heart is forever with you. You love me because I remind you of her, yet I will never become her. You are meant for another,” Liliana confessed quietly, reassuredly. Erik sank back onto the bench, his mind and his heart finally admitting what he had, for so long, run away from. No matter what attempts he made to forget, to ignore everything about her, he finally relented:  _ I still love her _ .

“Play something from your symphony,” her request came quiet yet stern. Erik grimaced up at her flushed face. “Do this for me - play something from your symphony.”

Erik caressed the keys beneath his shaking fingers. “I don’t understand; why are you asking this of me?”

“Play,” she commanded as she leaned against the piano. Erik pressed upon the keys and the robust chords of a song that began almost like an aching lullaby. A lullaby to not calm one to sleep, but a repeated melody to calm a raging storm, one that begins to fade into the horizon once its fury is unleashed upon the earth. The bright sun breaking through clouds of black and gray, golden rays springing forth blinding light, a melody of dance and illumination. Erik lost himself in the chords and notes, his chest heaving in anticipation of what he wanted the world to hear. What it was like the first time he ever heard Christine. The voice of an angel breaking through the fortress built around his heart and soul after years of turmoil, of hatred, of darkness. He abruptly stopped playing and his eyes shot open. “There it is,” Liliana smiled at him.

“What is? I don’t understand… what is  _ it _ ?”

“That, dearest Erik, is what she sounds like.  _ That _ is her song. She is your symphony.” Erik turned his hands over, exposing his sweating palms, his fingers trembling at the music birthing from him. He looked up at Liliana who moved to sit next to him. 

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Erik quickly glanced up into Liliana’s eyes but just as quickly broke his gaze. “I’m sorry, Liliana. I didn’t know… I didn’t realize… I hurt you.”

“Erik, you did nothing of the sort. I’m only sorry I couldn’t make you realize it sooner.”

“What happens now?” 

“You finish your symphony. Erik, my love, music is the very air you breathe, is the very blood running through your veins… it’s what gives you  _ life _ . But what sparks creativity and gives you the fuel to keep creating is your Christine. Share with her and give her the air you breathe and the lifeblood that courses through your veins. Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go.”

The pair again fell into silence. A voice rang from the doors at the entrance to the concert hall notifying them the shuttle was about to depart. Erik sighed as he looked up at Liliana. “And here, Édesem, is where I leave you. Goodbye, Erik.” Liliana placed a soft kiss upon Erik’s lips, and he watched as she departed the stage and walked up the aisle. The sound of the doors closing behind her echoed through the hollow chamber.

* * *

“Singore, I must close and lock the theater,” a manager’s voice broke the silence laying heavy in the auditorium. Erik picked up his violin case and made his way outside. A light rain had begun to fall, the air heavy with a rich sweetness of the surrounding vineyards and the crispness of fresh rain. As he began the long walk back to the hotel, Liliana’s words rang in his ears:  _ Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go. _

The streets were dark and empty, the sound of the rain getting heavier and pelting the brim of his fedora. Each step became heavier with more resolve. She was right. He knew she was right.  _ Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go _ . He entered his darkened hotel room and was met with open sketchbooks on the table, and something else that wasn’t there before. Atop the books lay a dark red rose tied with a black ribbon, a large leather-bound portfolio housing a multitude of blank, staff-lined pages. There was no note, but he knew from whom they came: Liliana.

He reached for the window latch and pushed the creaky window open, allowing the heavy, sweet fragrance of vineyards and rain to fill him. His eyes slid closed as he permitted, for the first time in a year, to let his ears remember her sound, her voice, her breathing. Picking up his fountain pen, the sounds of his life, the abuses of childhood and adolescence, the twinkling of hope upon meeting Meg and Raoul, the tormented creativity of his college years, the sound of hearing an angel sing… all his life was being written upon the staff lines of the pages beneath his hands. The music illustrating and bringing to life his entire existence. “Christine,” he breathed out a quiet sigh of reverence. “Christine…” as he furiously composed and wrote.  _ Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go _ .

* * *

**_Austria - Summer 2005_ **

The 45 minute shuttle flight from Tuscany to Vienna was uneventful. Upon landing and getting settled into a new place and routine, Erik found himself fully immersed with Maestro Yanich and Concertmaster Gregory Barto. He wanted to learn, to develop, and to create… and create, he did. The first time Erik permitted both gentlemen to read small snippets of the score to Christine’s piece, they fell into silence. “I must hear this for myself, full orchestra. Erik, with your permission, may I share the score and we can possibly do a sightreading run through after rehearsals this evening?”

“Yes, Maestro. I’ve heard the orchestra in my mind, but to actually hear it with gusto would be thrilling,” Erik consented.

After rehearsals one evening, Maestro handed out copies of the score. “Mind you, everyone, the score is indeed incomplete at the moment. However, we will make do until Mr. Destler has made more revisions and completes his composing. Erik?” Much to Erik’s surprise, Maestro Yanich motioned to Erik to the conductor’s platform. “The composer leads,” Yanich explained and Erik consented.

Coupling his violin under his chin, Erik motioned to the pianist to begin the opening three repetitive notes, the celesta chiming with the piano. Bow in hand, Erik conducted the professionals before him, watching them as the ethereal sounds of Christine overcame them, eyes glistening with realizations of how ethereal the music of Erik’s world truly was. Erik raised his bow to strike in the prominent violin counterpart of the piano, the robust, full chords from the cellos and contrabasses vibrating excitedly, a build up on monumental significance, energy thrumming from the fingers and breaths of the musicians before him. The incomplete piece came to a somewhat abrupt end and the entire orchestra was held captive in complete silence, eyes watchfully staring at the young genius before them. Erik’s eyes remained closed, images and movements of Christine forever imprinted in his mind. The eruption of applause and whistles broke Erik from his musical stupor and was greeted with an onslaught of compliments and handshakes. Maestro Yanich ran to Erik with enthusiasm, “My dear boy, pure poetry. Pure genius. Whatever has sparked this beauty, endeavor to never let it go!”

_ Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go _ .

* * *

**_Paris, France - Autumn and Christmas 2005_ **

“Erik, it’s so good to see you! We’ve missed you so much!” Meg’s voice chimed over Skype. “We have a surprise for you!”

“You’re pregnant,” Erik responded deadpan with a mischievous smirk.

“You are such a turd sometimes,” Raoul chuckled. “No, she’s not pregnant. We just bought plane tickets and made hotel arrangements for a surprise trip to Paris. We’re coming to see you for your last performance so we can spend Christmas together!”

“Oh my friends, this is so very lovely to hear! I cannot wait to see you! When do you arrive?” Erik was relieved. As an incredible experience this past year had been touring with the orchestra in Europe, Erik yearned for home and his family.

“We arrive on December 23rd! I’ll email you our flight information,” Raoul responded. “We’ve really missed you, brother.”

“This is wonderful news, my friends. And I’m so very eager to see you both.” The trio said their goodbyes, and Erik prepared for an evening at the opera.

The late October night air was crisp and fresh with the tinge of chill warning of the change of seasons soon to descend upon the city. Erik treated himself to tickets in Box 5 for a performance of Faust. It was the last performance for the season until after the holidays concluded and the new season would begin. During the entirety of the performance, Erik felt distracted: all he could see when he looked upon the stage was Christine, performing the role of Marguerite, to hear her voice soaring through the crystal menagerie of the gigantic chandelier hanging from above. Suddenly it dawned on him: he could hear her sing. There will be a way to see her on the stage. By the end of the performance, Erik was eager to get back to his hotel room and write the most perfect song for  _ her _ .

_ Find her. Tell her. Show her. Love her. And never let her go _ .

* * *

The New York City Chamber Orchestra’s final performance was Christmas Eve. This performance would finally wrap up their year-long European touring extravaganza, with an enticing and highly anticipated sneak preview of its protégé’s first movement of his symphony. 

Raoul and Meg’s flight arrived right on schedule. The pair eagerly entered the long line of taxis of their choosing to navigate the decorated city of Paris to finally see their beloved friend and brother. Arriving at the hotel, Erik eagerly awaited them in the lobby.

“ERIK!” Meg shrieked as she ran into Erik, embracing him a hard hug. “Oh my God I’ve missed you! You look amazing! You’ve actually been taking care of yourself!! Let me look at you!!”

Standing back awkwardly while Meg ogled, he responded, “I swear she becomes more like her mother every day.” He extended a hand to Raoul and the two brothers embraced with laughter. “Oh how I have missed you both. Come, get checked in. I’ve made reservations for dinner if you’re hungry.”

The evening passed quickly with dinner and dessert consumed and jet lag setting in, Erik motioned for a walk through the Jardin des Plantes before heading back to the hotel. It was frigidly cold but the evening sky was crystal clear and the stars began their twinkling dance above the trio of friends below. “It’s incredible really,” Erik spoke, “how much I have learned from both Maestro Yanich and Concertmaster Barto. And on our last night in Austria, Maestro Yanich had the orchestra run through an incomplete final movement to my symphony. I knew it was good, I just didn’t realize how pure it would sound coming from a full piece orchestra. I am honored you are both here to hear the first movement in its completion tomorrow night!”

“What of Liliana, Erik? You haven’t mentioned her once,” Meg’s inquiry pulled uncomfortably at Erik’s heartstrings. Him and Liliana hadn’t spoken since their last evening together in Tuscany. Erik looked back on that evening with mixed emotions; the evening served as such a breakthrough but also a crux to a bigger problem: he had hurt another person because of who, and what, he was.

“It’s a long story Meg, and one I feel not quite ready to share,” he paused, watching Meg sleepily stumble over her feet. “And perhaps a story best served after a full night’s sleep?” Raoul chuckled in response. “It’s getting late, and you two must get some sleep. This is where I leave you.” And Erik departed their company and walked towards his room.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve morning, and Erik raised his eyes to find Raoul joining him at the table in the hotel’s cafe. “Do I dare ask how you are feeling? Did you sleep?” Erik mused.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck, but I slept. Meg is still out cold, snoring way too loudly. Why invest in an alarm clock when your fiancée serves as an alarm for you? I need coffee…” 

Erik raised a hand towards the waiter, “Un café s'il vous plaît.” French easily rolled off his tongue. As the waiter returned Raoul glanced at the notebook under Erik’s arm, a sketch peering up from the page. 

Raoul took a steadying breath, bracing himself for the verbal assault he felt would spring forth. “Erik?” Another sigh. “It was her that night, wasn’t it?” A shiver coursed over Erik’s body. 

“How did you know?”

“I knew the night you left, right after the accident, I had a feeling it was her. I definitely knew the next morning when we went to the house to check on you. We found your ripped composition ripped up and when I saw your violin…” Raoul sighed heavily again. “Why didn’t you tell us… or me?”

“I can’t explain it or put it into words, Raoul. But, you’ll hear it all tonight during the encore performance.” Erik stood to leave, but Raoul placed a hand on his shoulder.

* * *

“Monsieur, Mademoiselle, a message for you,” the concierge motioned to Meg and Raoul. Both finely dressed in appropriate attire for the final concert performance.

_ My friends, _

_ Please enjoy the seats tonight. Box 5. See you afterwards! _

_ Yours,  
_ _ Erik _

“Oh he got us box seats!” Meg was ecstatic. And the pair made their way to the Opera Populaire.

The entire performance was perfect. Every entrance, every note brought about a new magic on this Christmas Eve in Paris. But it wasn’t until the encore performance when the audience would be brought to the brink to darkness, bearing witness to the life unfolding of the genius leading his work.

The quick overture began with the simplicity of two violins dancing between a light echo of mimicking notes, but each so uniquely succinct from each other. The overture quickly birthed into a darkened despair, with rich undertones of dissonant chords that told the story of absolute heartache, pain. Towards the end of the first movement, the audience held tearfully captive, nothing like this had ever been heard before. It wasn’t until the second movement began that it was the first glimmer of hope and light which the audience welcomed with relief. The movement continued on but stalled abruptly, the underlying forlorn melody faintly echoing underneath complex layers of brightness. The incomplete second movement came to an end before it could effectively bridge the transition to the third and final movement. The ending notes of that movement released a collective sigh of relief which was tinged with a dire need to continue. As Erik stood at the conductor’s podium, his violin tucked confidently under his chin, his bow extended, his brow dampened with sweat, all he could hear was silence. In a moment of confusion, his eyes shot open to only see the audience rioting to their feet. He could feel the violent vibrations of the thunderous applause beneath his feet. Finally the silent barrier crumbled before him and he was almost knocked off the platform as the sounds of applause and shouts of “Bravo!” and “Encore!” and “Brilliant!” enveloped him in such an embrace. 

He bowed slowly before his adoring audience, acknowledged with humble reverence and respect the musicians behind him, and bowed in tutelage to Maestro Yanich, who grabbed Erik into a fatherly embrace of congratulations.

* * *

The after-party was an extravagant event of Paris’ elite, again echoing memories of his first night in Budapest with the lovely Liliana. Erik found himself glancing up at the cloudy sky and watched peacefully as a few snow flurries began dancing their way to the streets below. From behind he heard Raoul and Meg with shouts of congratulations and love and adoration for the brilliance their ears had witnessed.

The look on Erik’s face must have given away to Raoul that he was planning  _ something _ . “Erik,” Raoul said quietly as Meg started talking to one of the orchestra members. “How… How did you  _ write _ something like that? How did you do it?”

“Life, Raoul… it’s the story of my life.”

* * *

It was well past midnight when Erik’s computer chimed of a new email. “Liliana,” Erik whispered as he clicked on the message.

_ Dearest Erik, _

_ Congratulations on a triumphant debut in Paris! Maestro Yanich has shouted your praises. I know this is your last day in Europe before heading back to New York. However, I wanted to share something with you that I randomly found on some website. I believe this is who you are looking for… _

_ Yours,  
_ _ Liliana _

Puzzled, Erik clicked on the link she had provided. The caption read: “open mic night 2004, NYE.” The video was blurry and the quality was appallingly terrible. It must have been a low quality cell phone video as the content started abruptly in the middle of someone singing. Erik’s breath caught in his chest as the very familiar voice rang in his ears. His mouth opened as he gasped for breath…  _ Christine _ . And the words she sang sunk into his soul:

_ Let the bells keep on ringing  
_ _ Making angels in the snow  
_ _ And may the melody surround us  
_ _ When the cracks begin to show _

_ Like the petals in our pockets  
_ _ May we remember who we are  
_ _ Unconditionally cared for  
_ _ By those who share our broken hearts _

_ As gentle as feathers  
_ _ The snow piles high  
_ _ Our world gets rewritten and retraced every time  
_ _ Like fresh plates and clean slates  
_ _ Our future is white  
_ __ New Year's resolutions are reset tonight

“Oh Christine…” and the words of Liliana which she had so adamantly told him in Tuscany screamed evermore:  _ Find her.  _ “I found you.”  _ Tell her.  _ “I will…”  _ Show her.  _ “I promise…” _ Love her.  _ “I’ll never fail you again…”  _ And never let her go _ . “It’s time…”

Two days later, Erik, Meg, and Raoul boarded their flight back to the United States.


	16. Christine’s Solace

**Chapter 16: Christine’s Solace**

**_Tucson -_ ** **_New Year's Eve 2004/Early Winter 2005  
_ ** Their two bedroom apartment sat on the foothills of the Catalina Mountains. Every sunset bounced back rusty oranges and shadowy hues of purples and grays off the red, desert sands of Tucson. The air was fresh, warm, and clean. The groves of orange trees filled the New Years’ Eve day with sweet citrus. Christine’s physical therapy had been positively progressing in just the short six weeks upon their move to Arizona. Through a few connections, Nadir was able to track down an Army veteran who established and ran a physical therapy office for returning service members in need of physical healing. Dr. Guillermo Santos was known to push patients hard while building up not just physical endurance but mental and emotional endurance as well. He was tough, and his attitude and bluntness was much appreciated by Christine.

Nadir was impressed with the progress Christine had made, how determined she had become to reclaim some semblance of her previous self. As much as she had battled back, something was still amiss. The glow and passion she had once had for music was, at best, a tiny glimmer that would quickly fade into the background as memories from the past year came forward. Once attached to Gus’ guitar and avidly learning how to play, Christine kept the guitar housed in its case, collecting dust and begging to be played once again. Anytime Christine would attempt to draw near to it and open the hinges of the case, her fingers would grow achingly cold and her eyes would close, and her feet would turn her away in retreat. The music that had once fueled her and kept her going was now dormant.

As evening fell on New Years Eve, Christine found Nadir fast asleep on the couch with one of the many college bowl games broadcast on the television. “Uncle Nadir?” Christine spoke softly, nudging him gently to rouse him from his slumber. “Hey, Uncle Nadir?” A snort, a groan, and a fart escaped from Nadir and Christine chuckled. 

“Hmmm? Huh, oh, oh hey kid, what’s up?” he sleepily responded.

“I was gonna go to the bookstore up the street for a little bit. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. Take your phone. Be careful.”

“Always. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

It was a quick 20 minute drive to the local cafe bookstore. A hole-in-the-wall little corner shop that housed old books, rare prints, and an intimately endearing coffee corner. Christine entered taking in the smells of fresh coffee and cinnamon-scented pastries. What drew her attention, however, was a young man sitting on the makeshift stage in the back, a newsboy cap perched lopsided upon a buzz cut hairstyle, and a perfectly weathered acoustic guitar snuggling in his lap. The voice of this young man caused Christine to hold her breath, her knees buckled. This voice sounded so familiar… so dark, so low, so deep, so raw. It sounded like  _ him _ . It looked like  _ him _ . No, it couldn’t possibly be him. The young man glanced up from his fingers strumming away, his eyes locking on to Christine as she sunk into the worn down couch. 

The young man propped the guitar against the stool and stepped off the stage. Christine watched him carefully as he grabbed a large mug of hot tea. Feeling her eyes on him, the young man granted her a shy side grin and tipped his cap. Again she swallowed the lump in her throat. And again, her heart and mind were at odds.  _ It’s not him. No it can’t be. Go talk to him. No! You felt this way the first time you saw Kevin. No! Stop it! Yes, introduce yourself. _ “Shut up,” Christine growled quietly under her breath as she sprung to her feet but her leg seared in agony. Too much weight with too much sharp movement caused her months-old injuries to scream. Her knee buckled, sending her forward as her hand lurched out to catch herself from falling onto the low table in front of her. “Whoa whoa, easy, easy there. I got you,” a voice stated behind her as she felt long, calloused fingers gently grasp her arms to stabilize her back to her feet. Those hands guided her steadily back down onto the couch. Christine huffed with embarrassment, “Thanks. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m glad I was here to prevent you from eating the floor,” he chuckled. “I’m Jeremy, by the way. Mediocre guitarist, barely tolerable singer,” he said as he extended a handshake and sat in the oversized armchair adjacent to the couch.

“Christine,” she replied with a brief handshake. “And… you have a nice voice, better than you give yourself credit for.” She nestled into the couch and pulled her bag next to her.

“Ha! Well thanks, but I’m guessing you’re not a musician. Anyone else would know better.” And that gave Christine a chance to laugh.

“Well my dad was a music teacher, so he taught me a lot. I’m no professional, but you’re really good.” This piqued Jeremy’s interest.

“Oh yeah? Do you play anything? Do you sing?”

Christine cast her eyes downward shyly. “Um, I do… I mean, I did… it’s been a while.” She glanced up longingly at the guitar propped up against the stool on the stage. She felt her fingers tingle. Music was calling to her. Jeremy noticed.

“Come on, let’s hear it,” Jeremy said as he got up and extended a hand. “Let’s see what you got. I’ll try to keep up.” Christine swallowed nervously. It had been too long since she had sung or played… too long since music died the night of the accident, along with whatever hopes to meet  _ him _ she had. Jeremy sat at the piano while Christine nestled the guitar into her arms, her fingers trembling. She looked apprehensively at Jeremy. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Give me a key,” he smiled reassuringly.

“D flat major,” she said staring at the strings and positioned her fingers to the major chord. And somehow, in some way, she opened her mouth to sing.

_ The branches have traded  
_ _ Their leaves for white sleeves  
_ _ All warm blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe  
_ _ Scarves are wrapped tightly like gifts under trees _

_ Christmas lights tangle in knots annually  
_ _ All families huddle closely  
_ _ Betting warmth against the cold  
_ _ All the bruises seem to surface  
_ _ Like mud beneath the snow _

_ So we sing carols softly  
_ _ As sweet as we know  
_ _ A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go  
_ _ Like young love still waiting under mistletoe  
_ _ We'll welcome December with tireless hope _

_ Let our bells keep on ringing  
_ _ Making angels in the snow  
_ _ And may the melody disarm us  
_ _ When the cracks begin to show _

_ Like the petals in our pockets  
_ _ May we remember who we are  
_ _ Unconditionally cared for  
_ _ By those who share our broken hearts _

The bookstore fell completely silent, the clinking of glasses and plates and silverware ceased. Christine’s eyes closed in reverence under the soft chords beneath her fingers. Her voice soaring tenderly through the room, all she could see was Erik, his body sitting at a piano, his back turned towards her, his face hidden. She could see him, and a faint smile graced her lips.

_ The table is set  
_ _ And all glasses are full  
_ _ The pieces go missing  
_ _ May we still feel whole  
_ _ We'll build new traditions in place of the old  
_ _ Cause life without revision will silence our souls _

_ Let the bells keep on ringing  
_ _ Making angels in the snow  
_ _ And may the melody surround us  
_ _ When the cracks begin to show _

_ Like the petals in our pockets  
_ _ May we remember who we are  
_ _ Unconditionally cared for  
_ _ By those who share our broken hearts _

Jeremy stopped playing, but Christine hadn’t noticed. She was lost, gone within the notes she sang. She could still see  _ him _ .

_ As gentle as feathers  
_ _ The snow piles high  
_ _ Our world gets rewritten and retraced every time  
_ _ Like fresh plates and clean slates  
_ _ Our future is white  
_ _ New Year's resolutions are reset tonight _

She strummed the last chord achingly slow as she opened her eyes to see an ocean of watchful faces before her. She bent her head down to the side to shield her tears. Applause erupted in deafening waves catching Christine completely off guard.

“Thank you,” she mumbled above a whisper in the microphone and again attempted to spring off the stage, her knee immediately buckling under the uneven pressure and she stumbled forward. And again, there was Jeremy helping her restabilize, holding her. And for the first time since they first locked eyes, Christine didn’t look away and maintained her gaze, swimming in the depths of Jeremy’s greenish grey eyes.

The evening drew later and later, and Christine’s phone chimed. Nadir. “Shit, I’m sorry, I lost track of time. I have to go. It’s my Uncle, he’s wondering where I am,” Christine quickly wrangled her belongings and grabbed her keys.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept talking your ear off. Can I walk you to your car?” Jeremy the perpetually kind gentleman. The two walked through the parking lot to the old pickup truck which used to be Gustav’s. “It was a sincere pleasure meeting you, Christine. I truly hope and pray God blesses you tonight and protects you on your drive home.”

“Um, yeah, you too. I’ll, uh, send you a text sometime, and probably see you on campus next week,” she responded. “Good night, and thanks.” She shuffled into the driver’s seat and watched Jeremy saunter off towards his Jeep. She could barely make out the bumper stickers on his car until she flicked on her lights, “Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you: Jesus Christ for your sins and the American soldier for your freedom” and the other “Operation Iraqi Freedom Veteran.”

The quick drive home, Christine wondered so many things:  _ why hadn’t he mentioned he was in the Army? He didn’t even mention what he was going to school for? How did I not ask those questions? _

“Hey, there you are. You had me worried, but I’m glad you’re home,” Nadir said somewhat hurriedly. He had made a vow to never fail her again, and if that meant keeping close watch, then so be it.

“I know, I’m sorry, I should have called. It’s just that, tonight, it was… I was… I sang,” she stammered. “For the first time in almost a year, I sang.” Nadir wanted to ask so many questions but he could tell Christine’s pain was getting to her so he offered up her meds and watched as she closed her bedroom door to sleep in the New Year.

* * *

It was about a week before the Spring semester was to begin at the University of Arizona and Christine was nervous. It had also been a week since the open mic night at the bookstore. Christine sat at the kitchen table staring at the blank text message in front of her, her mind working furiously if she should send a message to Jeremy or not. She glanced up to see Nadir eyeing her questioningly. “What’s going on in that head of yours, kiddo? You’ve been awfully distracted since New Year’s Eve. I haven’t seen you this aloof since that masked fellow.” Nadir immediately regretted bringing  _ him  _ up. If looks could kill, he would’ve been dead 1,000 times over and then some.

“It’s nothing. Just nervous to start the semester.” Well that was a lie. Sighing in apprehension, she typed a message.

_ Hi, it’s Christine from the bookstore. Good luck with the semester _ . No, that sounded stupid. She deleted the text.  _ Hi, it’s Christine from open mic night. Happy New Year _ . That sounded stupid, too. Her phone vibrated with a new notification.

_ Hi Christine! This is Jeremy from the bookstore’s open mic night. Hope you’re having a great start to the New Year. Good luck starting the semester! _

She needed the privacy of her room as she noticed Nadir’s questioning eye again.

_ Hey, thanks, you too. How is everything? _

_ Going great! And you? _

_ Hard to say. I miss PA. I can’t stop thinking about Erik. I need someone to talk to who isn’t Nadir. No one seems to understand _ . Christine laughed at the absurdity of it as she deleted her typing. Instead she sent:  _ Good to hear. I’m doing fine.  _

She almost dropped the phone as it vibrated an incoming call. Jeremy. “Hello?”

“I figured I’d call rather than text. I hope that’s ok.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s fine.” Long silent awkward pause. “So…” Another pause. “What’s up?”

“So the bookstore is having another open mic night tomorrow starting at nine. You want to go?”

“Are you going to make me sing again?” she blurted out a little too tinged with annoyance.

“HA! No not this time, although I’m sure the people from last time will want an encore. I just figured we could meet up and hang out.”

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.”

* * *

“I’m heading to the bookstore later tonight,” Christine stated at dinner the next evening.

“Oh, ok, I didn’t know you had plans,” Nadir sighed. “Look, Christine, you’re an adult and you’ll do what you want. I’m just… I’m concerned. You haven’t been yourself since New Year’s Eve, you seem…” his hesitation heavy. “You seem distracted. Are you ok?”

“I know, I can’t really explain it. I feel angry… like there’s this thing inside me that keeps me angry. And,” God this was hard, another thing to add to the list of things to physically heal from, “the migraines are getting more frequent. I’m guessing you’ve noticed.”

Nadir nodded in confirmation. “Just last week you had three; usually you’ve been averaging maybe one every two to three weeks. What’s going on, kid?”

“I don’t know and they’re happening at night. Maybe I should call the doc.” And again, Nadir nodded in confirmation. “Get in soon, kid. But enjoy tonight. Do you want some company?”

“No it’s ok.” 

* * *

A few hours later found Christine and Jeremy sitting across a table, nursing some hot tea. “You know,” Christine hesitated, “I noticed your bumper stickers last week. You haven’t mentioned you’re in the Army.”

Jeremy grew quiet. “I was… I got out last year after my last deployment in Iraq.” His eyes distant, downcast.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I get it. Both my dad and uncle are Vietnam vets.” Jeremy perked up at this. “They don’t… didn’t… well Dad never talked about it. Nadir casually mentions it but nothing in detail.” A heavy silence fell between them. “What did you do in the Army, if it’s ok to ask?”

“I was a Chaplain.” Christine shifted uncomfortably. “But right now I’m nearing completion of my doctorate in psychology with a concentration in counseling.” Her relationship and questioning God had been an internal riotous battle since Gustav’s death and exacerbated further with Kevin. Jeremy’s chuckle caught her off guard. “Something I said?”

“No, I’m just… surprised. You seem too young to be a chaplain.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m 33. I was in JROTC in high school and then was in ROTC in undergrad. I was basic administrative support during active duty and pursuing my graduate degree in theology right before terrorist attacks. I graduated the summer before and immediately deployed with my unit to Iraq and served as a Chaplain for my unit.”

“How long were you there?”

“Too long.” Another heavy silence fell between them before Jeremy spoke again. “So what about you, Christine?”

“Oh, me? Uh, well, there’s not really anything to tell. Moved here with my godfather about two weeks after Thanksgiving from Pennsylvania. Not much else to tell.”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” Jeremy casually mentioned and Christine looked at him curiously. How could he have known? And why would he even care?

* * *

**_Winter 2005_ **

“So what’s his name, kid?” Nadir inquired skeptically. Christine glanced up from her homework and blushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded and glanced back at her homework.

“You have a terrible poker face.” 

Christine grumbled inaudibly and huffed out an aggravated sigh. “It’s nothing,” as she rubbed her temples with the balls of her palms. Nadir watched concerned as Christine went to the kitchen medicine cabinet and grabbed three Excedrin migraine. “I need to go lay down.”

“Did you call the doctor yet? This is the second one this week.” Christine nodded no. “I’m calling and making the appointment for you. This can’t wait.”

* * *

The next week found Christine sitting impatiently at the doctor’s office. Her phone chimed with a text message.

_ Hi! Haven’t seen you around campus this week. Hope you’re ok. There’s an open mic night at the bookstore if you’re interested. Let me know! _

“Christine Daae?” Christine glanced up to see the nurse and was escorted to a private room. Blood pressure.  _ Fine _ . Temperature.  _ Fine _ . Heart rate.  _ Fine _ . “Okay, the doctor will be right with you.” A few minutes passed and Christine grabbed her phone and began typing a message.

_ I probably have a brain tumor or something. Who cares… _ The door opened and in walked the doctor. She honestly meant to delete the message but accidently pressed send instead and silenced her phone. About 20 minutes later, Christine walked out to the car, a script in hand for an immediate MRI. Pulling out her phone, she noticed two missed calls and two text messages from Jeremy. She called Nadir first to explain the doctor wanted her to go to the emergency room and get in for the MRI. Nadir was in the car in a heartbeat.

This day had gone down the wrong path since she woke up. And sitting in a busy ER didn’t help matters. The smells of the hospital, the sounds of the intercom announcements, flashing ambulance lights, the sounds of sirens shook Christine to her core, reminiscent of that horrific night a year ago. “Christine Daae?” chimed an orderly. “Follow me please.” The paperwork took even longer and then there was more waiting. Finally, three hours later found Christine and Nadir waiting for the results of the MRI. “We can’t see any cranial swelling or anything like that, which is great news. I suggest making changes - no caffeine, more water, and more sleep. But we’ll make sure to share these results with your primary care and we’ll go from there. You’re free to go.”

Exiting the hospital and walking to the parking garage, Nadir asked, “Are you ok to drive home, or do you want to come back later and get the truck?”

“No, I’m fine. I just want to go home. Ironically, I can feel a migraine coming on.”

Christine sat in the garage for a while, staring at her phone, reading the messages from Jeremy.  _ Here’s my address. Can you come over in an hour? _

_ Is it ok with your godfather? I don’t want to disrespect him by intruding, Christine. Are you ok? _

_ I don’t really know. Can you come? I need someone to talk to. _

_ Of course. See you in an hour. Praying you’re ok. _

Christine walked into the apartment to find Nadir putting on some tea. Excedrin Migraine waiting for consumption. “A friend is coming over in about 45 minutes. His name is Jeremy. I met him at the bookstore on New Year’s Eve. He got me to sing at its open mic night. He’s an army veteran, deployed to Iraq. He’s a chaplain… or was.” 

Nadir held his breath as Christine’s eye bore into him. The nonstop verbal onslaught of fact after fact after fact. “Christine, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I trust him.” Christine took the pills and sat stoically at the table with Nadir at her side sipping their tea, waiting for Jeremy’s arrival.

A knock came at the door a little later and Christine opened it to greet Jeremy. She quietly greeted him and Jeremy responded with a very timid and cautious hello. Jeremy extended a nervous hand to Nadir, who appeared behind Christine, eyeing this stranger with apprehension and skepticism. “Mr. Khan, I’m Jeremy Loughlin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Christine speaks very highly of you.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. Welcome, please come in.” The three sat at the kitchen table in silence. “Tea, Jeremy?”

“No thank you, sir. Water is fine, sir.” Nadir handed Jeremy a cold glass and he let the cold liquid calm the knot in his throat. “I sincerely appreciate the invitation to your home; however, I must ask Christine… what am I doing here?” Nadir let out an airy chuckle and looked at Christine.

“I wanted to tell you what’s happening… and explain… these.” Christine shifted in her chair to shrug off her draped cardigan over her tank top and pulled up her skirt to mid-thigh, exposing the angry white scars. Jeremy’s eyes raked over Christine’s side, questioning why he hadn’t noticed before. “When you mention you were a chaplain,” her voice interrupted his sorrowful gaze, “I was uncomfortable at first. I have been struggling so much for so long, and I’m angry… I’m so angry.” Her voice trailed off into a tone of sorrowful reverence, she confided in Jeremy what it was like to lose Gustav, she stoically spoke of Kevin and their relationship, the night of the accident. She couldn’t quite bring herself to mention Erik or the music he breathed to life in her. The hours passed as Jeremy sat and listened. At some point along the way the conversation moved from kitchen table to the comfort of the living room couches and recliners. It was almost midnight by the time Christine’s story came to an incomplete conclusion, the finale of her young life’s events yet to be written and spoken.

Jeremy let out a sigh. “Christine, I’m sorry you’ve had to go through so much within the past few years. And I understand why you’re so angry with God.”

Nadir chimed in as the men watched Christine quickly fading with exhaustion and sleep. “I should get her to bed” and went to wake her. Instead, Jeremy nodded and proceeded to lift Christine off the couch and carried her to her room, with Nadir walking behind. Jeremy placed her gently onto her bed and covered her with a blanket. As he turned to leave, a pile of open sketchbooks on a side table at the foot of Christine’s bed caught his eye. There, staring up at him from the stark white pages, was the face of a young man, eyes burning with such an intensity, and half his face hidden away under a mask. Quizzically he picked up one of the books and looked questioningly at Nadir. “Who is this?” he whispered. Nadir sighed apprehensively, “Come with me.” The two headed back to the kitchen table. It was the first time since the name Erik was uttered in almost a year.

Confessions from an exhausted body haunted Christine’s slumber this night. One name. One man. One masked figure. Erik. For the first time in many months, Erik haunted her dreams. A confession of memories and of unspoken secrets to be learned. She felt his heated kisses seductively trailing her jaw, her neck. She felt his tongue lightly suckle the hollow of her throat, her panting becoming strained with desire, aching for more. His fingers tracing every contour of her shoulders trailing ever so gently around the curves of her breasts. The nip of teeth biting at the base of her neck caused her to gasp in fear. Long, soft fingers turning hard, short. Searing pain of a familiar one’s hands gripping the base of her throat. Choking. She wanted to shout in pain to stop, stop the assault. “Please, Erik, no… stop” she whispered in her sleep. The voice of the man above her growled, “Erik’s not here. It’s me, it’s Kevin… Erik abandoned you. Erik is no more. You’re mine. MINE.” Kevin’s hands pressed harder and deeper into her throat. “Can’t… breathe…” she gasped. “ERIK!” she shouted as her body shot up, her eyes wide in panic. Her breathing hard, getting her bearings in the darkness of her room.

She carefully got up from her bed, walked towards her desk to flip the ceiling fan switch on. Her sweat beading along her forehead, she looked down to turn the soft-lit desk lamp off when her eyes met his. His face staring at her, pleading with her, begging her for forgiveness. “You abandoned me,” she whispered closing the book, and stumbled back to her bed. 

* * *

**_Late Spring 2005_ **

The weather became increasingly warmer as the mild winter gave way to the desert blooms of spring. The spring semester was in full swing with Christine taking six classes to get caught up. Her and Jeremy had been growing closer with every passing week. The spring found the duo outside under orange trees on the University of Arizona’s campus, sitting together on a bench with their guitars, Jeremy carefully instructing Christine on positions and playing. The question loomed in Jeremy’s mind after his conversation with Nadir just a few weeks ago about Christine’s masked friend named Erik. Nadir was respectful and wouldn’t dive into all the details without Christine’s permission, yet Jeremy was determined to get to the heart, quite literally, on the matter.

By April, a development had occurred within Jeremy’s doctorate program. He had an opportunity to go on a mission trip to Kenya for the entire summer before defending his thesis in December. Christine wasn’t happy. “How will I survive summer without you?” she asked innocently enough.

“I think you’ll survive. You said you were going to take a bunch of classes this summer to catch up so you can graduate in December. You’ve been working really hard, and I know your dad would have been very proud of you.”

Christine chuckled. “I guess. The bookstore won’t be the same without you.”  _ And neither will I be able to bear not seeing you and hugging you every day _ . She didn’t dare express those thoughts. As much as she enjoyed being around Jeremy, there was still a big part of her that wondered if he felt anything for her. “When do you leave on the mission trip?”

“Right after finals week, so about three more weeks.” What terrible timing. On the anniversary of that nightmare of a night, her friend and confidante would abandon her. Just like another person had abandoned her. Christine left out a melancholy sigh at the thought.

* * *

Before a blink of an eye, the spring semester was over. Finals were complete and Christine was confronted with a painful goodbye as she drove up to the passenger drop off at the Tucson airport. 

“I don’t want you to go,” she said shyly, staring at her feet.

“I know, Christine. It’ll fly by and it’ll all be ok.”

“Why does it have to be right now? You know what today is, and I just… can’t bear this alone.”

“You’re not alone, Christine. God hears you, he knows your heart and knows your struggles. He loves you, and He’s there to talk to.”

Christine felt her face get hot. “I don’t understand you, Jeremy. After all the evil you saw in Iraq, all the loss and horror and unfathomable sadness and darkness, how can you still believe? How can I possibly believe there’s this being floating around in the void ‘protecting’ me when that supposed omnipresent being couldn’t protect me that night?” And there it was: the question she had wanted to scream from the rooftops the night Jeremy told her he was a chaplain. How, after all the hell he had seen, could he possibly believe in God? And how, after all the evilness Christine had experienced at the hands of someone who claimed to love her, was she to believe God loved her and protected her?

“He was there protecting you that night, Christine. You’re still alive and you’re still here. Your story has only just begun.” He pulled out a worn down and dirty leather-bound notebook. “I want you to have this and read it in its entirety.” He handed it to her.

“What is it?” she asked as she untied the leather strings and cracked open the notebook. Jeremy’s handwriting.

“It’s a journal and devotional I kept writing in while in Iraq. I want you to read it, and I mean REALLY read it.” He glanced down at his watch. “I have to go.” He reached up and cupped her small face in his hand. “You take care, and I’ll see you soon.” He placed a kiss on her cheek, and before she could stop herself, Christine quickly turned her head and angled her face to meet Jeremy’s lips with hers. Jeremy’s eyes shot open in surprise, watching Christine’s eyes scrunched tightly closed, and softly kissed her back but quickly pulled back.

“Be safe.” And Jeremy disappeared into the airport.

Christine drove home in a daze. She had never been so brazen before; kissing Jeremy quite possibly was a mistake. She immediately regretted it. She found herself a little while later turning into the parking lot at the bookstore. There were more cars there than usual. Entering the bookstore she discovered a community art group participating in an open painting event. A young woman came up to her and asked if she’d like to join the free class, “We’re just getting started! Grab an empty seat. They’re passing around a bowl with a designated word on it. Then you paint your word and bring it to life.” Christine found an empty seat next to an older couple and was soon handed the bowl. She reached in and pulled out her slip of paper: Magnolia. She swallowed hard. Magnolia. The magnolia tree from the night of Kevin’s party, outside in the courtyard of his apartment. The night she freely gave herself to him. The night the sweet smells from the magnolia tree behind them danced in the breeze and blended its sweet fragrance with the pending rain. Magnolia. Kevin. Sadness. Darkness. Music. Erik… Erik… Erik… his name on repetition as her brush strokes matched the cadence of his name.

* * *

**_Summer 2005_ **

It had been three weeks and still nothing from Jeremy. Christine wondered if she had made a terrible mistake in forcing a kiss upon him the day he left for his mission trip. Christine sat at her desk, the hot desert son beating mercilessly upon the apartment complex. It was almost too hot to breathe. Her room was darkened sans for the soft glow of her desk lamp. Her magnolia tree painting staring back at her. She continued to work on the canvas. Living within each bloom of magnolia flowers were the faces of Nadir. There was Gustav. There was Jeremy. And in more than one bloom throughout the tree was Erik. Her summer courses were keeping her busy and occupied, but it was the quiet, late afternoons like this that turned her melancholy and contemplative.

Jeremy’s devotional journal had laid mostly untouched, unopened on the floor next to Christine’s bed. She could never bring herself to open it and read its contents, but something about today pulled her attention towards the notebook. “Christine, dinner’s in a few minutes,” called Nadir from the kitchen. The journal beckoned to her and begged to be opened. Christine sat on her bed and carefully opened the pages. She flipped through the beginning entries, feeling the remnants of Iraq’s grainy dirt scratching against the paper. Around halfway through, a glaring title drew her attention: 

_ Darkness Falling _

_ Today was the funeral of four soldiers killed during a convoy patrol by a roadside IED. How can I possibly still believe you are here, Lord? I doubt your presence and your love. I am angry. I cry out to you, “Abba, Father! Why have you forsaken me?” Why have you led me here? I am begging and pleading for answers yet I feel you are silent to my tears and cries and call for help. My purpose has come into question. Is this truly part of your plan? I am angry. _

Christine felt her salty tears stinging her cheeks. She couldn’t finish reading. She flipped to a few pages further.

_ Hope, Faith, and Thankfulness _

_ All in your wonderfully planned timing, Father. Today we baptised two brothers who have accepted you as their Lord and Savior. They told me it was my sermon from last week’s memorial services. Father, my God, my Lord! Blessed be your name and I thank you for my trials so you could move others to you. Hallelujah! _

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready,” Nadir knocked and poked his head in. Christine followed him into the kitchen, clutching Jeremy’s devotional journal.

“Uncle Nadir?” she asked, “You don’t ever talk about your faith. Do you believe in God?”

Nadir sat back thoughtfully. “I did once, kid. War changes things…” but he dropped off, “war changes people. It’s hard to find light within the darkness.”

“Did dad believe in God?”

“Yes, he believed. He was always a better man than I ever was… or am. Just curious what’s fueling this, Christine. You were raised in church. But I get it - you’ve been through hell and it’s normal to question. Take it from this old man.”

“Jeremy gave this to me when I dropped him off at the airport. I think you should read it.” And Christine placed the journal onto the table. The two finished dinner in silence.

* * *

The rest of summer went by within a routine. Christine plowed through her summer classes with ease and was delighted to finally see graduation on the horizon. Nadir had noticed a shift within her; somehow she seemed less distracted and more at peace with her circumstances. Unfortunately, however, the migraines didn’t cease. Christine wouldn’t dare tell Nadir about the recurring dream that had been haunting her slumber. It always started out the same. An earnest seduction of Erik’s hands but his face had become faded, unknown and unfamiliar. Perhaps the memories of him were fading along with the hurt from over a year ago.

_ Just landed!  _ Her phone chimed. It was Jeremy and it was finally home. She was ecstatic as she pulled out of the cell phone lot and navigated her way to the arrivals. She watched carefully as she passed the sea of arriving passengers on the curb waiting to be picked up. There! There he was! She quickly pulled over, her truck making a terrible metal grinding sound. She parked and jumped out and ran into Jeremy’s arms. “You’re finally back! You’re finally here. I have missed you!” she happily wept into Jeremy’s neck. He laughed in response and squeezed her tight. “Nadir made dinner to welcome you back if you’re up for it.”

“Good, I’m starving… and exhausted. But food calls. It’s so great to see you, Christine. You look good. You have a glow about you.”

“Because you’re finally home,” she said but noticed Jeremy fidgeting nervously, uncomfortably. She raised an eyebrow, “Let’s get out of here.” The drive from the airport to the apartment was in awkward silence. Christine asked questions, Jeremy answered, a steady rhythm of inquiry and response.  _ He’s just tired. _

Nadir greeted Jeremy with a hug and welcome home and the three sat down for a light meal. Jeremy was quickly fading and Nadir offered to let him spend the night on the couch, which Jeremy gladly accepted. With half an hour, Jeremy passed out cold, snoring away.

The next morning, Christine awoke to find Jeremy gone. “It’s jetlag Christine… it’s still on Africa time. He called a cab and went home. He didn’t want to wake you.” She read Jeremy’s note; it sounded too formal, something wasn’t right. And her feelings were confirmed: he was avoiding her for a reason.

* * *

**_Autumn 2005_ **

There wasn’t time to dwell on much of anything as the fall semester began a few days after Jeremy’s arrival back to Arizona. This was it: the final semester. Graduation in December. And yet another question remained: what happens after this?

Jeremy was in the final stages of writing and editing his doctoral thesis and didn’t have much time outside of that. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving break when Jeremy was able to resurface for air. He would defend his dissertation in two short weeks and then graduate with distinguished honors. His plans for afterwards remained a mystery until Thanksgiving evening.

Nadir, Christine and Jeremy enjoyed an informal dinner together. Stuffing consumed, turkey comas looming, and football blaring on the TV, Christine eyed Jeremy carefully, still noticing his distant eyes and avoiding glances. “Christine, are you up for the bookstore? Open mic tonight, let’s go.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Let me grab my guitar.” Christine emerged from her room and noticed that Nadir nodded in affirmation to Jeremy; something didn’t seem right, something was definitely off. Jeremy and Christine drove in a heavy silence to the bookstore. The truck came to a shuddering stop as they parked in a parking spot. 

“Christine,” Jeremy said quietly, “I, uh, want to talk to you about something.” This didn’t sound good. “I’m really sorry I haven’t been that present since I got back from my trip. It’s not that it isn’t good to be with you and hang out, but I haven’t been completely honest.” This definitely wasn’t good. Christine nervously chewed on her chapped bottom lip. “While I was on my mission trip, I bumped into an old friend from my undergrad days. She, um, her name is Emerson, Emmi for short, was on the same trip with the organization we were sponsored by, and I hadn’t seen her in a really long time. We, uh, dated off and on during undergrad but our lives were heading in a very different direction at the time. We had kept in touch over the years with an email here and there. But um,” here it came, “we reconnected on this mission trip. And the country direction for the organization offered me a full time job as pastor at a newly emerging church in Kenya. I’ve accepted their offer and I’m going there permanently once my doctorate is presented, and I asked Emmi to join me. We’re getting married.” Christine bit too hard on her and tasted a drop of blood on her tongue.

“Oh…” she whispered, her throat becoming painfully dry. “We better get inside and figure out what we’re going to sing.”

“Chris…” Jeremy tried to still her, but she was already out of the vehicle, walking to the bed of the truck to grab her guitar. “Christine… wait a minute, hold up… please.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Talk to me. Please forgive me for not telling you. I just… I just didn’t know what to say. And when you kissed me the day I left, I didn’t know you had feelings for me. I’m sorry if I made you think I thought of you in… in that way.”

“So… what, I’m like the kid sister? The annoying small sidekick for you to kill time with?” That came out too harsh, and she watched Jeremy crumbling. “I didn’t mean it like that… I just… like, I told you everything, Jeremy. And I just thought maybe it wasn’t pity I saw in your eyes when you looked at me. Maybe I tried to convince myself you really did care about me.”

“I DO care, Christine, I do and I love you… just not the way you need me, too.” This next part was going to hurt but it was so true and he knew Christine would know it to be. “I can’t save you from your solitude and I’m not the answer.” Christine stilled. “And since we’re laying out there, you haven’t been completely honest with me. I know about Erik; I had to hear it from Nadir.”

No… no he didn’t. But yes, Erik’s name was finally spoken aloud. Yes, Erik was and was still an ever-prevailing and ever-present companion. “You don’t know what you’re saying; you don’t know anything.” It felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest.

“Then tell me, Christine… tell me about him. Tell me what happened.”

She stared at her ground, watching her heart getting stomped. “I can’t. Let’s just go in.” Jeremy let out a sigh and followed far behind. The bookstore was packed, perhaps most people escaping the post-Thanksgiving dinner family fiascos. Christine beelined for the empty stage and sat in front of the piano. Her eyes told Jeremy to stay put and not to come onto the stage with her. She quickly tuned, and a few voices in the background rumbled about “it’s the girl from New Year’s Eve” and “oh wow, she’s back” and “wait wait, just listen quick.” She cleared her throat and began the opening chords. She knew Jeremy was right. His words echoed in her brain.  _ You really want to know who Erik is? What I wanted him to be? _

_ I sit and watch the rain,  
_ _ And see my tears run down the windowpane.  
_ _ I sit and watch the sky,  
_ _ And I can hear it breathe a sigh. _

_ I think of him,  
_ _ How we were.  
_ _ And when I think of him,  
_ _ Then I remember,  
_ _ Remember. _

_ In his eyes I can see  
_ _ Where my heart longs to be.  
_ _ In his eyes I see a gentle glow,  
_ _ And that's where I'll be safe, I know. _

_ Safe in his arms, close to his heart.  
_ _ But I don't know quite where to start.  
_ _ By looking in his eyes,  
_ _ Will I see beyond tomorrow? _

_ By looking in his eyes,  
_ _ Will I see beyond the sorrow  
_ _ That I feel? _

_ Will his eyes reveal to me  
_ _ Promises or lies?  
_ _ But he can't conceal from me  
_ _ The love in his eyes. _

_ I know their every look,  
_ _ His eyes.  
_ _ They're like an open book,  
_ _ His eyes.  
_ _ But most of all the look  
_ _ That hypnotized me. _

_ If I'm wise, I will walk away,  
_ _ And gladly.  
_ _ But, sadly, I'm not wise.  
_ _ It's hard to talk away,  
_ _ The mem'ries that you prize. _

_ Love is worth forgiving for,  
_ _ Now I realize.  
_ _ Everything worth living for  
_ _ Is there, in his eyes! _

_ Love is worth forgiving for,  
_ _ Now I realize.  
_ _ Everything worth living for  
_ _ Is there, in his eyes! _

Christine hadn’t noticed the steady stream of tears on her face. She belted out her proclamation, shouting to all who would listen: no more running, go home and find him. Somehow, in some way, find him. The applause from the customers was almost deafening, whistles and thunderous claps and cheers surrounded her. She knew what she had to do.

Jeremy followed her back to the truck shortly after to head back to the apartment. “You found it tonight, Christine,” he said stoically as they sat outside the apartment building. 

“Found it?” she asked.

“You already know. And tonight, you have a decision to make.” And with that obtuse thought, Jeremy walked to his car.

A few hours later, Christine found herself alone in her room. It was late as she lay restless, unable to sleep and that’s when she felt  _ it _ . Like the comfort of a weighted blanket, and reassuring and securing feeling enveloped her. “God,” she whispered, “I give it all to you. Help me.” And within minutes, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

**_December 2005 - Graduation and Home_ **

She didn’t tell Nadir, she wanted it to be a surprise. Her acceptance letter lay open on the kitchen table as she prepared hot tea, waiting for Nadir to come home. “Hey kid, how was your last final?”

“It went really well. Definitely passed.” And graduation loomed next week. “I have some news to share, and I think you better sit down.”

“Oh? Hit me,” Nadir chuckled and glanced down at the envelope Christine pushed towards him. The college seal on the letter… Western Cypress University. He looked curiously at Christine, a broad smile on her face. “Congratulations on your acceptance to the College of Education and Professional Studies for the Master of Arts degree program in Library Science and Information for the Fall 2006 semester.” The color in his face drained away. “Christine, what’s the meaning of this?” Christine’s smile immediately disappeared.

“Uncle Nadir, I’m 23 years old and it’s time for me to grow up. I am forever indebted to you for everything you have done and continue to do in my life. You are my family, the only family I have left. And you’ve gone through monumental proportions to put your life on hold to protect me and permit me time to heal. But it’s time for me to stop running. I’m ready to go home.” And spoke this part carefully and cautiously. “And although I would like you to come back to Pennsylvania with me so we can start this new chapter, if you want to stay here, you can, but I need to do this.”

Damn this girl; no, this young woman who had grown up too fast. Life came at her fast and furious, and Nadir had to admit her admired her gumption and her charge. “Let’s give this some time, but we’ll go if you’re ready. Let’s wait until Spring.” And Christine’s smile returned. This was it.

* * *

“Congratulations class of 2005!” the President of the University announced.

A small quiet dinner followed in celebration of both Jeremy’s and Christine’s graduation. Jeremy was to leave tomorrow night. And tonight was goodbye.

“Mr. Khan, I cannot thank you enough for your guidance, your friendship, and mutual brotherhood in service. It has been a sincere honor, sir.” The two men exchanged a hug and said their goodbyes. Nadir headed back into the apartment, leaving Christine and Jeremy alone.

Wetting her lips ever so slightly, Christine pulled herself to her toes and gently placed her lips onto his. The trembling fingers of her left hand slowly reached up to the side of his face, mapping whatever lines she could trace. He didn’t kiss her back, but he allowed this moment to happen. Gently, he broke her away from him, her eyes remaining closed. “Christine,” whispered Jeremy, “I am not him. I’m not the one for you.” 

“I know, Jeremy. This was goodbye.” And Jeremy reached for her and crushed her into an all-consuming embrace. 

“Find him, Christine. And by the grace of God, you will be with him and know the plan He has for you. I love you, Christine.”

“I love you, too. Take care of yourself.” And with that, he was gone.

* * *

**_Pennsylvania - Spring 2006_ **

“I didn’t realize we had so much stuff in storage,” Christine sighed as she and Nadir stood in front of the open storage unit.

“Well, let’s get it in the truck and back to the house so you can get that place back in order.”

* * *

“Hi, Ms. Daae, welcome aboard! We’re excited to have you join the library staff here at the campus library. We certainly need help!”

“I’m really excited to be here,” Christine said as she got a tour under way with the senior librarian at the Frances V. Harvey Library on the campus of Western Cypress University.

It was already the end of April and the student body was yet again in a flurry of deadlines as finals week was quickly approaching. It was late afternoon when Christine’s shift was up, but as she was packing up her belongings ready to head back to the house in the woods, an graceful and flamboyant blonde-haired young woman came galavanting into the library looking rather frazzled and confused. “Oh my gosh, thank God you guys are still open and someone’s here!” she said rather breathlessly.

Christine chuckled as she took off her backpack. “You’re just in time, I was about to leave for the day. Can I help you with something?”

“The struggle is REAL, girl, let me tell you!! God I hope you know music. My friend is in freaking New York City right now and doesn’t have time to help me pick a piece of music for my recital. I love him to death, but COME ON!”

Christine was laughing hysterically. This poor girl was in an awful tizzy but she was so sweet and absolutely hilarious. “Well, you’re in luck. I was a music minor so I might be able to help. My name is Christine, by the way.”

“You, dear Christine, are a saint!! A SAINT I tell you!! Bless your heart for staying to help. I’m Meg… Meg Giry.”


	17. Clarity

**Chapter 17: Clarity**

“It’s really nice to meet you, Meg. So, what type of piece are you looking for exactly?” 

Meg smacked her elbows onto the counter and plopped her chin into her hands. “I haven’t the faintest idea, honestly,” Meg sighed heavily.

“Ok, um, then tell me a little about what your performance is.” Christine reached into her bag to pull out a notebook, “Is it ok if I take a few notes?” The notebook snagged on one of her sketchbooks which came tumbling out onto the counter. A few pages lifted up, partially revealing a picture.

Meg glanced down curiously, “Uh, not at all…” and she paused. Half the face on the page looked strangely familiar, but Christine quickly grabbed the sketchbook and tucked it back in her bag. “Anyway, so I’m in my Master’s program for ballet performance. However, this one requirement is to choreograph a more modern performance piece so I want something non-traditional but with classical elements to it. My friend mentioned Ave Maria, but what I didn’t realize is that there’s like a million Ave Marias. And of course, he’s too busy in New York to get back to me. He’s such a turd sometimes.” Meg chuckled fondly, dearly missing her friend. But, very soon, in just a few short weeks, he’d finally be coming home for good.

“Well, let’s see. It sounds like you’re looking for something neo-classical. And there’s only one arrangement I could possibly think of that might be what you’re looking for.” Christine thought harder. “Just curious, did your friend give you a possible composer?”

Meg rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, but I can’t remember. I’m terrible at remembering names and of course I forgot to write it down. I want to say some Russian name… Vladimir… Vladimir something.”

“Wait, wait,” Christine quickly said. “Vavilov?”

“Oh my God that’s IT!” Meg shouted and a few students and a few service desk librarians glanced up in annoyance. “But when I searched, I couldn’t find anything.”

“That’s because he technically wrote it anonymously and it was later misattributed to a man named Caccini.”

“Wow, ok, you’re like a music encyclopedia! Just like my friend! I think he may have met his match. When he gets back from New York this summer, I’m putting you two into a music Jeopardy competition to see who’s the biggest nerd.” Meg really liked this girl. “Now the question remains: where do I track down the music?”

“The music library in the Swope music building most likely.” Christine glanced down at her watch. It was rush hour now and the drive back to the house in the woods would take forever. Might as well wait until later after traffic is lighter. “Do you want to head over there?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you, but I’d appreciate it. I’ve only been there a few times so I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Yeah, let’s go!”

The ladies departed the library and walked in the warm afternoon sunlight. The two chatted casually during their walk to the music building and within a few minutes arrived at their destination. Christine grew incredibly quiet and still as they stood in front of the main entrance. “Hey,” Meg said quietly but Christine couldn’t hear her. “Christine? Hey, Christine? Are you ok?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Christine broke from her internal world and looked at Meg. “Um, sorry, yes, I’m fine. Just… a lot of memories in this building. Everything kind of came flooding back all of a sudden.”

“Oh, is Western Cypress your alma mater?”

“Yes and no… I was only here for my sophomore year until…” she quickly dropped off. Meg looked concerned and felt a sadness grow. “I was in a bad car accident that took me away from school for a while.”

“Christine, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to trigger anything,” Meg said and gently laced her around Christine and gave her a side hug. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” Christine responded as she hugged Meg in return. It felt nice to have someone to hold on to. There was something about Meg. She was gentle, kind, and incredibly sincere. Something in Christine told her that Meg was someone she could trust. Meg felt it too. There was a connection between them from the start, and Meg simply knew there was something special about Christine. “Let’s go in.” And the ladies walked into the building and navigated their way through the hallways towards the music library.

Once inside the library, Christine quickly found the CD and placed it into the CD player in one of the listening rooms. As soon as it started, Meg gasped. “Christine, this is it! This is EXACTLY what I’m looking for! This is stunning! Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Again Meg wrapped her arms around Christine and Christine genuinely smiled and hugged her back. Suddenly there was a rather audible grumble, and Meg busted out laughing. “Oh my God that’s embarrassing. I’m starving!” 

Christine glanced at the clock. “Well, it’s almost 6:30. I better let you go so you can get home and grab some dinner.”

“I’d just be going home to an empty house. My fiance is stuck in Philly tonight with his study group and won’t be back until much later.” Meg thought for a minute and offered up a thought. “Hey, are you hungry? Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

“Yeah; yeah, I’d love to! Any place in mind?”

“Iron Hill Brewery by far is my favorite place. Let’s go!”

Within an hour these two stuffed their faces with appetizers and split a large pizza and were quickly overcome with impending food comas. “Oh Meg, I’m so stuffed. I think I’ve gained 70 pounds tonight,” Christine laughed and then groaned uncomfortably, her leg was on fire. She had been on her feet too much today and she was starting to ache.

“What’s wrong, you ok?” Meg was genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, just old injuries from the car accident. It’s been a little over two years since it happened. I was in physical therapy but I just feel like it’s not the same.”

“Well no offense, Christine, but it probably won’t be the same again,” Meg confessed. “But, here’s an idea. Two friends of mine own a ballet studio about 15 minutes from here, and on the days I have class, we usually meet up around 7PM Tuesdays and Thursdays on campus to stretch and come up with new routines for their students. I usually reserve a practice studio over in the performance hall building. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“Meg, I’m the biggest klutz on the face of the planet. I survived maybe three years of ballet in elementary school before they told my dad to stop bothering.”

Meg laughed, “Well, maybe giving it a try again will be helpful. At any rate, it’d give you a chance to do some stretches, work out some of the lingering scar tissue, and maybe help rebalance you, if that makes sense. What do you say?” Christine thought about it as the two split the bill and left their tip at the table. Upon exiting the restaurant, Christine agreed to give it a try. “Oh good!! You’ll love Sorelli and Jammes. They’re drama queens but I love them!” The girls continued the short walk back to campus and stopped when reaching the parking garage, about to part ways.

“Meg, thank you so much for a great evening. It was really great to meet you and hang out. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too! Wait, I need your cell number! Can’t keep in touch if I don’t get your number!” Meg whipped out her cell phone as did Christine.

“Ok, Meg… wait, how do you spell your last name?” Meg spelled it out and provided her number. “Great, you’re in. My turn.”

“Christine… last name?”

“Daae.” 

Meg’s fingers froze and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Daae. D-A-A-E. It’s a weird last name, I know.”

“It’s not weird, it’s just…” Meg stopped herself. It couldn’t be. There’s no way in hell it could possibly be…

“Well I better get going. Thanks again, Meg, for a great afternoon. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Um, what? I mean, yeah, yes, yes of course. I’ll text you tomorrow. It was amazing meeting you, Christine. Like, seriously, I’m so glad we’ve finally met. Have a good night.” And Meg whipped her arms tight around Christine and held her close. Meg gave her a very sincere smile, and headed towards her car to head home, leaving Christine feeling like something was amiss.  _ What did she mean by  _ finally _ meeting? We didn’t know each other before today… _

* * *

It was a little after midnight when Raoul finally got home and he was exhausted. He came in quietly through the kitchen door expecting the house to be dark and Meg already asleep. Instead he came in to find Meg sitting in the living room with a half empty bottle of newly opened wine. “Oh, hey babe, I didn’t expect you to still be awake.” No reply. “Babe?” Meg took a long sip. “Meg? Meg, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

Meg looked up into Raoul’s eyes and he noticed she had been crying. “Meg, sweetie, oh my God, are you ok? What happened?” Panic setting in.

“Raoul,” Meg swallowed the knot in her throat, “Erik… I met… today, Christine.” 

Raoul froze. “Meg, what? What about Erik? Christine who? What are you talking about?”

“Christine. Erik’s Christine. The girl from the accident two years ago. Christine Daae. I saw her. I met her today.”

“Oh my God,” Raoul quietly breathed out. “When… where… h-how?” Meg quietly walked Raoul through all the details of the afternoon. “Wait, did you mention Erik at all by name?”

“No, not once. Oh God, Raoul, what are we going to do? How are we going to tell him?”

Raoul sat down next to Meg and took a long sip of her wine. The two sat quietly next to each other, hands entwined, holding tight. After a few minutes, Raoul finally said, “We’re not going to tell him anything.”

“What? You can’t be serious. We can’t hide this from him. And we have to say something to Christine. She has to know about that night; that it was us! That it was Erik!”

“No. Don’t say a word to either of them. Continue on as if we know nothing. We don’t know what she’s been through after the accident and the extent of her injuries and what she does and does not remember.”

“I don’t like this, Raoul,” Meg said sadly and fell silent. “What a night,” she said feeling suddenly exhausted. “I can’t believe two years later after the longest night of our lives, she’s here. She’s actually here.”

“There’s nothing we can do now. Let’s go to bed.” Meg and Raoul headed to bed. Within minutes, Meg was sound asleep but Raoul lay there staring at the ceiling. His mind going a million miles a minute.  _ I can fix this. I can work with this. This just might work. It’ll be putting our friendship with Erik on the line, but I’m willing to weigh the cost if it means getting him and Christine together. It’s a risk we have to take. _ And in his resolve, Raoul drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning found Christine sitting in horrific traffic, and glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she was going to be at least an hour late to work. This was getting ridiculous. How had traffic gotten this much worse? It was never like this before. She quickly gave a call to the library and promised to stay late to make up the hours. While sitting in unmoving traffic, Christine called Nadir at his office. “Well, I think it’s time to get an apartment closer to campus. I left home an hour ago and I’m still an hour away from the university.”

“Oh kid, I’m sorry. I’d offer for you to stay with me but getting from Philly to Western Cypress isn’t much better than what you’re dealing with now. What are you going to do?”

With an exasperated sigh, Christine responded, “I’ll have to look online today. Maybe I’ll ask Meg if she knows of any places.”

“Wait, who? Meg? Who’s Meg?”

“Oh I forgot to tell you. The most hilariously sweet girl came into the library two nights ago completely lost needing a very unique piece of music for her dance recital, so I helped her out. We hung out for a while, and she invited me to dinner. We had a really good time. I really liked hanging out with her.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m glad you’re making friends. Look kiddo, I gotta run. My 9AM is here.”

“Ok, love you, Uncle Nadir. I’ll keep you posted on what I find out today.” And she hung up the phone. She decided to text Meg.  _ Hi Meg, it’s Christine. I have a huge favor to ask. What’s your schedule like today? _

Christine finally arrived at campus, but Meg still hadn’t responded. Probably in class. Christine’s time at the library went by quickly and uneventfully. It wasn’t until close to dinner time when the senior librarian approached her. “I have a proposition for you, Christine. You know that Mrs. Keller is retiring at the end of the term, and we’re looking for someone who would be interested in dividing their time between here and the music library. I know you were a music minor, so you have experience in that world. Would you be willing to tack on an extra four or five hours per week to sit over there?”

“Really?! I’d LOVE to! When can I start?”

“For the rest of the semester, why don’t you stay at the music library and get caught up with Mrs. Keller. I’ve already told her you’d be taking on some of the responsibilities there.”

“This is amazing. Thank you so much for the opportunity!”

About an hour later, Christine’s phone chimed. It was Meg.  _ Uh, so I’m at the library looking for you and you’re not here. Where are you? _

_ I’m at the library in Swope. I’m here for a while longer if you want to drop by. _

_ I’ll see you soon! _

Meg found Christine huddled in front of a computer. “Hi Christine, how are you? What’s up?”

Christine stood and gave Meg a quick hug. “Oh, just looking for an apartment. I’m afraid my commute this morning was the final nail in the coffin. Once classes start in August, I won’t have time to be sitting in traffic. I found one on North Barnard Street.”

“Ohh, I like that! And it’s only $600 a month? It looks small. Have you looked at it yet or signed a lease?”

“I’m going over there tomorrow morning to look at it. I might just sign a lease right then and there. It’s about a 10 minute walk to campus, which is good. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the truck alive.” Christine chuckled a little. That truck was honestly the last thing owned by Gustav. He loved that truck. It was an old 1995 Ford pickup and it was the truck Gustav taught Christine to drive shift in. She held onto it mostly for sentimentality rather than practicality. “But I can’t let go of the truck; not yet at least.” Their conversation was cut short with Meg’s cell phone ringing rather loudly. 

“Sorry, I have to take this. Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow; I want to hear more about the apartment. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Meg hugged Christine and said a quick goodbye. As Meg was already out of the library, Christine heard her voice echoed in the hallway, “It’s so good to hear your voice!! How are you, Erik?”

Christine swallowed hard.  _ There’s no way. No, merely coincidence. Erik is a very common name _ . But oh how her mind worked furiously trying to piece this together. All she could hear was Meg’s statement upon their first chance meeting: “you’re like a music encyclopedia! Just like my friend!” And there was something else Meg said at dinner the night they met: “My friend moved to New York City right at graduation in 2004. He’s getting his PhD in composition and violin. He’s such a gifted musician; and his voice, oh goodness, what a gift from God it is. You’d love him! You two have a lot in common.”

In the emptiness of the library, Christine reached into her bag and pulled out a sketchbook. Thumbing through it, she stopped on a page with Erik’s portrait upon the ivory page. “What if?”

* * *

“Erik, a word if you will,” chimed Maestro Yanich from his office as Erik walked by to head home for the evening.

“Yes, sir?”

“Sit down, please,” Maestro motioned to the adjacent chair. “Erik, you have made tremendous efforts in the past few months since we’ve arrived back in New York following our year-long tour. I’m incredibly impressed, and will have nothing but extremely positive things to report back to Dr. Piagni regarding your progress and the progression of your symphony.”

“Thank you, Maestro.”

“When you head back to Western Cypress?”

“I’m planning on taking the train back the Wednesday before the Memorial Day holiday, so in about two more weeks. I must procure housing that weekend.”

* * *

“It’s so good to hear your voice!! How are you, Erik?” Meg said over the phone, her overly excited shriek was proof. 

“Where are you? There’s an echo.”

“Oh, I'm in Swope Hall right now leaving the library and headed to class. What’s up?”

“You’re actually in Swope? Does that mean you found the piece I told you about?”

“No thanks to you, but yes, I found it with help from Chr-...” Meg quickly dropped the name before she let it slip and fell silent.  _ Don’t blow it, Meg. _

“Meg. Meg? Hello?” Erik knew Meg was acting weird. For one thing, she’d never go into Swope alone because she never knew where to go. And second, she only went in to listen to Erik practice.

“Sorry, Erik, I’m just distracted.” Well that was just a small fib. “This contemporary performance piece is kicking my butt. But Sorelli and Jammes are helping me as much as they can. Plus, I’ve been helping Chris-”  _ Damn it, Meg, just shut your mouth! _ “Uh, I mean, I’ve been helping someone with stretching and strengthening after a car accident she was in…”  _ Meg, SHUT UP! _ “Nevermind… I have verbal diarrhea. How are you? When are you coming home?”

Erik’s gut told him something was up. “Meg, what on  _ earth _ are you talking about? You’re all over the place!” He could hear her preoccupied sighs and but she wouldn’t say a word. He was growing annoyed and impatient. “Alright whatever. I’m doing just fine, but I’m ready to come home. I’ll be taking a quick overnight trip this weekend to sign a lease. I found an apartment on North Barnard Street, a few places down from Dr Reyer’s house. Apparently the owner took the townhouse and reconstructed it and made the downstairs a full apartment and did the same to the second floor. Apparently someone has expressed interest in the first floor, so I’ll be taking a look at the second.”

Meg let out an audible groan of misery and heartbreak. “North Barnard Street?” Another sigh. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Meg, what on earth is wrong with you tonight? You’re not acting like yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Umm, uhh, nothing, it’s nothing. I’m, uh, at my car and I have a flat tire.” God this was heartbreaking. How much longer did she have to pretend this wasn’t happening? “Do you want to stay with us when you get here? Can we pick you up from the train station?”

“Thank you, dear distracted Meg. I’ll text you when I’m about 20 minutes from the regional rail station in Western Cypress.”

“Yeah, ok, that works.” A heavy silence. “So, when do you officially come home?”

“The Wednesday before Memorial Day weekend. I won’t be able to officially move in until Memorial Day, so if it’s ok for me to still keep minimal furniture in your garage and crash with you guys until then, I’d appreciate it.”

_ Just keep pretending; keep the facade, Meg. _ “Of course it’s ok! Can we do a welcome home party for you on that Saturday? We could invite Drs. Marrenesco and Reyer, of course my parents and Raoul’s parents.” Meg paused. “Do I need to extend the invitation to Dr. Piangi and La Carlotta?” She cringed at the names. After everything Erik had told her and Raoul of this interesting duo, she wasn’t looking forward to formally welcoming them to their home.

Erik sighed heavily. “If you insist on a party, I guess it’s fine. And I suppose we should invite Senor Piangi and that horrendous wife of his. He’s making this whole PhD program miserable for me. I grow increasingly tired of their supposed expertise.” Erik sarcastically drew out the word, dripping with absolute disdain.

“I’m sorry, Erik, I have to go. Call us when you’re close to the train station and we’ll come pick you up. Love you!” With a rather quickened goodbye, Meg stopped with absolute dread. She pulled out her phone and called Raoul, “Babe, I’m on my way home. We have a situation.”

An hour later, again the consensus was to say and do absolutely nothing as if nothing was happening. “You know, Raoul, I love you dearly, but I don’t think this is a good idea. This might blow up in our faces. I don’t agree with this. I feel like you can’t get out of attorney mode and you’re treating Erik and Christine as hostile witnesses or something, acting as judge and jury. It’s not right, Raoul; and I think you know that.”

Raoul stiffened a little bit at her words. “I don’t like this either Meg, but I don’t see another way around this. It’s not on us to fix this. It’s a really crappy situation and it’s not like we PLANNED this. We’re doing the best we can with what we got right now.”

Meg sighed heavily with regret and sadness. “Raoul I really like Christine. She’s so sweet and sincere. I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. There’s just something about her… I really see us becoming best friends. There’s something deeper than what I have with Sorelli and Jammes.”

“Or someone?” Raoul hinted. “And that someone is a mutual; that someone is Erik.” The pair grew quiet.

“I still don’t like this. I don’t want to lose either of them.” Meg settled into Raoul’s embrace on the couch on their screened in porch.

“I don’t either.”

* * *

The next morning, Christine was signing her name to a lease for the first floor apartment at 186 North Barnard Street. It was the perfect place for her. It was small, comfortable, and the floor to ceiling windows in the living room offered a unique way out onto the front small porch. Christine was thrilled. She was to move this Sunday. “I’m more than happy to help, kid. I’ll get a few guys from the office to help out. Do you want me to get U-Haul?”

“That’d be great. Thank you so much, Uncle Nadir. You’re gonna love this place. It’s so perfect.”

An hour later, Christine found herself heading to the Swope music library. But there was a lot of commotion coming from a very familiar, rundown corridor. Her feet forced her to move towards the commotion. A few people were in HER practice room! And a few others were in HIS. What were they doing with the pianos? Christine quickened her steps and found an older man, with pepper-colored hair and bottle-glass lenses. “Excuse me, sir, what’s going on?”

“Oh, the university will start renovating this old corridor over the summer. We’re donating these old pianos to a guy who repairs them and then gives them to the public schools.” The older man turned and smiled at Christine. He had a very warm, sincere glow about him. Judging by the calluses of his fingers, Christine guessed either viola or cello. “I’m Dr. Nikolai Marrenesco.”

“Christine Daae. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Christine furrowed her brow. “Can I ask if I can buy two of these pianos?”

Nikolai looked at her quizzically at the odd request. “Uh, I don’t see why not but why on earth would you want to buy these? They’re in a sad state of disrepair.”

“Sentimental reasons,” she whispered. “I want those two.” And she pointed to the pianos that used to occupy her favorite practice room as well as the practice room belonging to Erik.

“I’d have to see, Ms. Daae, but…” Nikolai couldn’t continue as a boisterous tenor voice of Dean Ubaldo Piangi echoing down the hallways. “Brace yourself, Ms. Daae… we have company,” he said quietly with a jestering wink.

“Nikolai! Progress, progress, progress! Making way for new! Out with the old!”

Dr. Marrenesco leaned down and whispered to Christine with a chuckle, “He’s not the best with American nuances, Ms. Daae.” Christine barely stifled a giggle. “Dean Piangi, this young lady would like to purchase these two pianos. Is that a possibility?” Christine looked at Dr. Marrenesco with sincerity.

“More money, of course!”

“I’m prepared to offer $300 total for both. I can haul them away myself on Sunday, sir. I would be forever grateful, Dean Piangi, if the music department would be willing to accept my offer.” With his heavy Italian accent, Dean Piangi happily agreed and would happily accept payment on Sunday via check. And he walked away. “Dr. Marrenesco, thank you so much. I sincerely appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure, young lady. I hope you’re able to find some help on Sunday to haul this old things off.”

“Oh, yes sir, I’m moving into an apartment on North Barnard Street on Sunday, so it’ll work out perfectly! Thank you again!”

“North Barnard Street, huh? A student of mine is moving into an apartment there most likely in a few weeks! The previous Dean of Music, Monty Reyer, lives on that street as well. A street of musicians!”

Christine laughed, shook Nikolai’s hand, and the two parted ways.  _ What a nice man. _

* * *

_ About 30 minutes away. See you soon _ . Raoul’s phone chimed with a text from Erik. “It’s been way too long; I’m ready for him to come home.” Him and Meg got in the car and started their quick drive to the train station. Shortly after, there was Erik, the tall, lanky friend with an actual smile on his face. Erik rarely smiled in full. Usually it was a smirk or a quirk of muscle at the side of his mouth. It was under unusual conditions in which Erik flashed a full smile. And when he did, it was dashing and glowing. “Oh friends, four months it has been. Thank you for coming to pick me up!” Erik wrapped his arms around Meg and briefly embraced Raoul.

The trio navigated their way through the Western Cypress. Reaching North Barnard Street, Raoul pulled over and saw the landlord waiting on the sidewalk. Within about 20 minutes, Erik found himself signing a lease for 186 North Barnard Street, apartment two.

* * *

The weekend went too fast, there just wasn’t enough time to catch up on everything. And before they could think too much about anything, Sunday morning had arrived and Erik was due back in New York. After a few cups of coffee, the trio began their drive to the local train station where they would once again say one last goodbye before Erik would be back for good.

The early Sunday morning sunlight cast a beautiful hue within the hazy late spring air. The morning dew glistened like crystals in the sunlight. The birds chirped happily and the crisp air held a promise that in just three short weeks, the town of Western Cypress would fall into a quiet summer.

Christine and Nadir arrived around 8AM to the Barnard Street apartment. Nadir followed in the U-Haul truck with Christine and Darius leading the way. Unloading everything went smoothly. Christine opted to bring a minimal amount of furniture from the house in the woods to the new apartment, so it really wasn’t that much to unload. The biggest thing was to meet Dr. Marrenesco at Swope music hall to pick up the two pianos she purchased. “I don’t understand why you need two pianos, Christine. This place is really small,” Nadir mentioned. But when Christine shot him the look of “you will understand in time”, Nadir quickly dropped it.

By the time everything was unloaded and the bulkiest of furniture assigned its appropriate spot in the apartment, it was time to pick up the pianos. The loading dock area in the rear of Swope Hall served wheeling the pianos into the back of the U-Haul with much ease. Around noon, Christine, Nadir, Darius and another volunteer began unloading the pianos but soon these individuals found themselves physically spent and craving sustenance. Christine quickly got in her truck and drove away to procure multiple pies of pizza and cold sodas. “Let’s just get this done,” Darius said. “At least this way, the pianos will be inside and we can finally sit and eat.” Nadir agreed and three men pushed, pulled, and maneuvered the beat up pianos out of the truck and onto the sidewalk. The early afternoon sun was beating furiously down, and again another short break was needed.

A few minutes later, Nadir looked up casually to see a car slowly coming down the street. The U-Haul was partially blocking the street, so Nadir signaled that he’d move to let the car through. He quickly jumped into the driver's seat, the window down as he hung out to watch Darius guiding the truck backwards and closer to the sidewalk. Soon the truck was out of the way, and Nadir flagged the car through with a polite nod and an “I’m sorry for the inconvenience” nod. The pair in the front smiled graciously and waved. In an almost slow motion realization, Nadir shifted and caught a glimpse of someone in the backseat, a young man with a familiar build looked out the window with a gaping expression, a hard burn of the most crystal blue eyes Nadir had ever seen, and a distinctly familiar white mask. And,  _ oh my God! It’s him, it’s Erik! _

The car drove past as Erik’s heart felt like it would jump out of his chest and continue pumping its way down the street and into the drainage ditch. The utter look of shock and astonishment was immediately noticed by Raoul as he glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Erik? Are you ok? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Meg immediately turned around and looked at Erik. All color drained from his face as Erik’s body went completely rigid. “I’m fine,” he whispered. “Something’s not agreeing with me.”  _ My God, it’s Mr. Khan. What on earth is happening? _ Erik’s mind was going a mile a minute. There was no way this was happenstance. And immediately, all Erik could think about, and remember, and recall was one name. One name. One woman. One angel.  _ Christine _ .

In the blink of an eye, the spring semester of 2006 was over and summer was officially to kick off in just a few short days with Memorial Day. Christine had settled into a calm routine of working in the Swope Hall music library Monday through Thursday. One lazy evening, Christine sat outside on the porch of her apartment, her guitar nestled in her lap, a notebook and pen laying on a side table, and an iced tea, which she nursed as the sunset gleamed brilliant golds and oranges through the giant oak trees leaves along the street, shadows of light purple hues hugging the facades of the townhomes. “It doesn’t get any better than this,” she contently sighed to herself. Then she had an idea.

_ Hi Meg, would you like to come over for dinner? I’m finally settled in the apartment and would love to cook for you. You’re welcome to bring Raoul, whom I still haven’t met oddly enough. _

_ Oh, YES! We’d love to! Raoul’s on a short break before his summer courses start. What time and what can we bring? _

_ How about 5:30PM? Just bring yourselves! _

_ Awesome - can’t wait! See you tomorrow! _

* * *

“So what’s the plan, Raoul? Are we going to tell her tonight?” Meg asked as she pulled her bouncy blonde curls into a ponytail.

“I don’t know; I don’t know what to do. Erik’s party is Saturday. We can’t NOT invite her.”

“Babe, I still don’t like keeping this secret. It’s not fair to either of them. And something was seriously off with Erik last week when we dropped him off at the train station. Did you see how rigid he went when we passed by his apartment? It’s not like he knows Christine lives there. Maybe he saw something? Did we miss something?”

“The whole situation is not good, but somehow, I just know it’s going to work out. I have faith in Erik… and although I haven’t met her yet, I have faith in Christine. They have been through so much together without even actually BEING together. From the moment he came to the apartment the first time he heard her, neither of us had ever seen him so… genuinely happy. And I want nothing more than to see him that full of life again. I saw a glimmer of that while we were in Paris at Christmas. I’m only hoping he’s been able to hold on to it.”

“Even if it means possibly losing him as our friend and brother by holding knowledge of Christine from him?”

Raoul paused. “Yes, Meg, even if it means losing him as my brother as long as he has Christine by his side for the rest of his life.” Raoul leaned over and kissed Meg with a devastating thoroughness; a warmth bubbling between them, a love ever-growing. “Mmm, we better go before I take advantage of you, Meg Giry.”

Meg laughed and teasing pushed Raoul towards the door. “Well, there’s always later tonight.”

* * *

Raoul and Meg pulled up in front of the townhouse, and Raoul drew a deep breath. This would be the first time meeting Christine. The first time speaking to her. The first time meeting the woman who forever changed Erik’s life. The young woman responsible for being the inspiration for Erik and his music. 

“Christine, this is Raoul de Chagny,” Meg said with an introduction. And Raoul smiled and extended a hand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Christine. Meg talks about you all the time.”

Christine furrowed her brow slightly. There was something strangely familiar about this young man. And seeing him next to Meg had her racking her brain.  _ I’ve seen him before. I’ve seen THEM together before, but where… where? _ “The pleasure is mine, Raoul. Please come in guys. Can I get you anything to drink?”

The trio settled into a comfortable dinner, with lots of conversation and even more laughs. Christine couldn’t remember the last time she felt this comfortable with someone before. Raoul and Meg were  _ real _ , they were so warm and genuine. And most of all, they didn’t gape openly at her scars. With summer quickly approaching and the weather already changing, skirts, shorts, t-shirts, and tank tops were now required, which meant her scars becoming more exposed. 

“Do you play the piano, Christine?” Raoul chimed up.  _ Of course she sings, moron. _ And Raoul’s face flushed and received a quick warning nudge from Meg telling him, “Don’t you dare blow this now.” 

Christine glanced at the piano. “I do. Guitar also, but not that well.” She paused. “I sing a little, too.”

“Feel like playing anything for us?” Oh Raoul was treading on thin ice, but something in him wanted to hear it for himself what drew Erik to her. What was it about this woman’s voice that birthed Erik’s enlightenment?

“Um, sure, I guess. I’ve been working on writing something if you’re interested?” Christine grabbed her notebook from under a pile of sketchbooks, which tumbled onto the floor beside the piano. One of the sketchbooks fell open to a page she had drawn on during her and Nadir’s first trip to Arizona in 2003 during Christmas break. The sketch was of a young couple in a hot tub at the hotel she and Nadir stayed at, and then it hit her. That couple… that couple on the white page of her sketchbook… that couple has come to life… that couple was in her apartment! Here. Now. Christine swallowed hard and quickly closed the sketchbook as she heard Meg approach from behind to help pick up the other items. “It’s incomplete right now, but I’ll get through what I have,” Christine whispered. Raoul and Meg must have felt a shift within Christine. Something wasn’t right, but they didn’t dare say anything. Christine began a soft repetition of chords and quietly sang:

_ I hear your heart   
_ _ As it beats beneath   
_ _ The sound of crashing cars.   
_ _ As the sirens pour   
_ _ Into every street   
_ _ Surrounding us,   
_ _ Our world caves in on us   
_ _ And makes us new. _

_ All our love came out of the woodwork.  
_ _ All our strength came out of the woodwork. _

Her fingers stumbled and her voice cut off abruptly. Her fingers went cold, shivers running upon her skin. The sound of sirens echoed from the downtown area. “I’m sorry, that’s all I have.” Suddenly a stabbing pain from the base of her skull came shooting up, infiltrating and spreading like a vice-grip of agony.

“Christine? Are you alright? What… what’s going on?” Meg was on her feet as she watched Christine furiously rubbing her neck and temples. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“I’m sorry, migraine. I’m sorry, I don’t feel well,” Christine staggered to the kitchen to grab her migraine medication.  _ Of all the times for this to happen, it happens now. _ This was the first time Meg had witnessed a migraine overtake Christine, and it all made her feel helpless. Raoul sat still, eyes pleading with sympathy and questions. 

“Christine, please, let me help you,” Meg pleaded, and then took charge. She handed Christine a glass of water, then guided her to her bedroom and helped her into bed. Raoul stood in the threshold. “Call me if you need me, ok? Do you need anything else?” Meg asked as she took a cold, wet washcloth and placed it on Christine’s forehead.

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t need to see this. I’ll be ok. I’m so sorry,” Christine whispered.

“It’s ok, Chrissie. Get some rest.”

Raoul and Meg were great - they scoured pans and rinsed all the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher. After turning on the dishwasher, they turned off the lights and locked the door behind them. The car ride home was in complete silence until Raoul asked, “What did we just see happen back there?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea; but I’m really worried about her. She was fine until we asked her to play something. I don’t understand.”

Raoul sighed with a sudden realization. “Post-traumatic stress disorder… PTSD, Meg. She has PTSD, and I think music might be her trigger.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Meg started crying. “Raoul, I want to tell her. My heart breaks for her like nothing else.” All Raoul could do was sigh, realizing she was right, but now they had dug themselves into a hole with no way out. Perhaps the best thing to do was to let things play out naturally. And should this all be part of God’s plan, to take terrible life circumstances and turn them into a beautifully hopeful ending, then let it be. Raoul and Meg finally pulled into their driveway and walked inside. Raoul grabbed Meg’s hand and led her to the living room. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“I feel God tugging at me, Meg. We need to pray, because I’m concerned about Christine; I’m scared for Erik; and I’m so sick to my stomach that we’re going to lose him. And I’m so sad by what we witnessed tonight. Meg, she’s in so much pain. The best we can do is give this to God tonight and pray.” They sank to their knees in penance and in the darkness of their home, hand in hand, prayed harder than they’ve ever prayed before.

* * *

The next morning was greeted by torrential rain and dark skies. It was fitting for the mood Christine found herself in when she woke up, still dressed in her clothes from the day before. She walked out to the kitchen expecting to see dirty dishes either still littering the countertops or soaking in the sink. She found neither. Instead, she found the green light on the dishwasher notifying her that indeed the dishes were clean and ready to be put away. Christine sighed in appreciation and then glanced to see a sweet note written by Meg, saying she’d stop by later to check on her.

About an hour later, Christine was showered and snuggling on the couch in sweatpants and a tank top while nursing a hot mug of tea when she saw Meg jogging up the front steps to the door. She waved at Meg through the living room window, motioning the door was unlocked. “Oh my gosh, what a miserable day! It was so nice and warm yesterday; now it’s just cold and poopy,” Meg said as she toed off her sneaks before coming into the living room. “How are you feeling? We were really worried about you last night.”

“I’m ok; but I wanted to thank both you and Raoul for cleaning up the kitchen last night. You really didn’t have to do that. And I’m really sorry you guys had to see what happens when a migraine takes over. They come on so suddenly and without much warning. And honestly, it’s exhausting.” Christine started tearing up a little bit, and Meg leaned in for a hug.

“Stop apologizing, you can’t control it. And no need to thank us for cleaning up. You cook, we clean,” Meg chuckled. “I do have a proposition for you, Chrissie.”

Christine chuckled. “I thought I heard you call me Chrissie last night. Not many people call me that… only my dad and my uncle did… or do. You know what I mean.” Meg nodded in understanding. “And you worry me with ‘proposition’. Are you planning on robbing a bank and using my rather unreliable truck for your getaway car?”

“HA! Ok, maybe more of an invitation than a proposition,” Meg laughed.

“Hmm, you didn’t necessarily convince me this wasn’t a proposed bank robbery.”

“Tempting, but no. Remember my friend I told you about when we first met who is currently in New York? Well, he’s coming back to Western Cypress for good on Wednesday and we’re planning a welcome home party for him on Saturday. Would you like to come over?”

Christine thought about this for a little bit. Would she really want to spend an afternoon and evening with a bunch of strangers? Would Meg really want her attached her hip during the whole thing? “I don’t know, Meg. I appreciate the invitation, but I won’t know anyone there. Large social gatherings aren’t really my thing.”

“You should come over, Chrissie. There won’t be that many people at our house, it’s too small. It’ll be me and Raoul obviously. I’ve invited a few professors from the music department, and sadly needed to include the current Dean and his wife. My parents, Raoul’s parents. The guest of honor. And including you, no more than 15 people total. What do you say?”

Christine sat and chewed on this for a few minutes while Meg helped herself to a mug of hot tea in the kitchen. “Yeah, I’ll come. What time?”

“YAY!!” Meg clapped her hands and did a ridiculous version of a happy dance in a seated position. “And seriously, don’t be nervous, you and I will pal around most of the time anyway. OH! And bring an overnight bag so we can have a sleep over because apparently I’m still ten years old.” Meg giggled giddily. “Bring your swimsuit too!” Megs’ eyes shot down immediately in embarrassment. “Ack, I’m sorry. I didn’t think, forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive, Meg,it’s fine. If it was just you and Raoul, I would consider bringing it, but I just can’t stand the stares and the ‘Oh, what’s with the scars?’ gawking. It’s hard enough having to cover up when it’s hot out, let alone dealing with prying eyes.” The accident from years ago not only left its marks on Christine’s body but also on her emotions and her memories; Meg knew this, she knew it all. It would be something she’d never forget.

“Well, I better get going. I have a lot to get ready for this party.” And with that Meg got up and Christine walked outside with Meg to say goodbye. Then it dawned on Christine and she shouted to Meg before she got in the car, “Meg! You realize you never told me the name of your friend? I can’t just call him “Meg and Raoul’s friend who used to live in New York”! What’s his name?”

Meg paled.  _ Damn it… _ “It’s Erik,” she said and quickly got in her car and gunned it before she could let Christine stop her.

Christine froze. No, it couldn’t possibly be… but  _ what if _ ? Christine pulled out her phone and texted only one person who held more information than he was willing to share with her.  _ I need to talk to you. Are you at your office or at home? _

“To what do I owe this special visit?” Nadir jested with Christine, but from the look on her face she was in no mood for humor.

“In private,” she said as she closed the door to Nadir’s office. His desk and office were disaster zones; paper, notepads, pens, books all lay in heaping piles with not one shred of organization. “You need a secretary, Nadir… this place is atrocious!”

“Hey now, there’s a pattern in this chaos. I know where everything is,” Nadir feigned insult. That was the opening she needed.

“Then you can tell me where to find the police report from the accident.”

Nadir froze and stared hard at Christine. “Why on earth do you need that? And why on earth open those wounds?”

“You mentioned so many times the three good Samaritans who helped me the night of the accident. During Kevin’s trial, everyone kept referencing these people. Why hasn’t anyone ever told me their names?”

Nadir felt sick. “Chrissie, I thought we would be able to put that night behind us. Why can’t we just thank God you lived and move on?”

“OK, seriously? That’s what you’re going to say to me? Two years, Uncle Nadir, it’s been two years. I want to know. I need to know who they were.” A sad and heavy silence fell between them. Christine wanted to be furious and angry; but another part of her simply knew this is what Nadir had to do to hold up his promise to Gustav. He said the day she came home from the hospital after the accident. How Nadir broke down in sobs begging for Christine and Gustav to forgive him for failing them both. “Uncle Nadir, please. I need to know.” Nadir couldn’t move, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Please. I wanted to come back here so I could start healing emotionally and mentally, to finally be able to move on and close this chapter. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Nadir, I’m almost 25 years old. It’s time for me to grow up, to become my own… and I can’t do that if I can’t let go of what happened. Please, Uncle Nadir… please.”

Nadir released a heavy sigh, contemplating everything Christine had unloaded. And he had to admit: Christine was right. She wasn’t a teenager or a little girl anymore. She was a strong, brilliant, and beautiful young woman craving independence and a chance to come into her own, to create a life that was uniquely hers while keeping the very small group of family and friends forever close to help mold this new chapter. And if that meant opening old wounds in order to heal them and make her stronger, then it was a risk he had to let her make this decision. And now it was time to accept her decision. He moved towards one of his massive bookshelves and squatted to the storage unit under the bookshelf and slid open the door. And there it was: the box. Nadir placed the box on an empty chair and had to ask the question, “Do you want to go through it together or do you want to do this alone?”

Christine hesitantly ran her fingers over the edges of the box’s lid. “I think alone. Can I take this home?” Nadir simply nodded and wrapped his aging arms hard around her, whispering reassuring affirmations and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a good man, Uncle Nadir, and I love you so much. Thank you for everything.”

It was getting later and later on this Wednesday night. The rain pelted harder than earlier that morning. The wind howled through the trees and forced Christine to close the living room windows and drew closed the curtains. She sat on the couch simply staring at the unopened box, almost like she was waiting for a monster to jump out and take hold of her. With another long sip of hot tea, her shaking hands removed the lid. So much stuff was in there. Newspaper clippings, photos from the scene of the accident… and there at the bottom of the box, was a copy of the police file with a large, red-stamped letters on the front reading “CLOSED.” And a little while later, Christine sat on the living room floor, letting her sobs echoing off the high ceilings, the open file revealing the names of her good Samaritans:

Meg Giry, Western Cypress University, Junior;  
Raoul de Chagny, Western Cypress University, grad student (graduating); and then, THE NAME,  
Erik Destler, Western Cypress University, grad student (graduating), PhD doctoral student

“Why didn’t they tell me?!” Christine’s agonizing screams as reality came crashing down on her. “Oh God, why are you doing this?!”

The motion of car lights bounced off the walls followed by a quick slam of a car door. Feet running up the brick steps to the front entrance. The foyer door opened and the stomping of feet shook off the sopping wetness of the hard rain but the feet fell immediately quiet. Erik stood completely still, awkwardly listening to the muffled sobs and cries coming from the apartment. He felt like he was intruding on an intimate, grief-filled moment. He quickly shot up the stairs, dropped off a few items, and quickly left and made the drive to Meg and Raoul’s home.

* * *

Meg hadn’t heard from Christine all week, but honestly both Meg and Raoul had been unbelievably busy getting the house ready for not just the party but getting one of the guest rooms ready for Erik’s short stay with them until he was able to move into his apartment on Memorial Day. But finally by Friday, everything was ready. The welcome home party was expected to start around 3PM, with food, spirits, and laughs with everyone welcoming Erik home for good. And it wasn’t until Friday night that Meg finally heard from Christine.

_ Hey Chrissie, where have you been? Are you ok? Are you still coming tomorrow? _

_ I’ve been sick but feeling better. Yes, I will be there.  _

_ Aww, I’m sorry, do you need me to come over? Do you need anything? Are you feeling better? _

_ No, I’m fine. I’m doing ok. Thanks for asking. I’ll see you tomorrow. _

And again, Christine fell back into silence. Meg felt something else was going on. Something wasn’t right, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it as Erik came down the stairs rather agitated. “Unbelievable, I don’t understand,” he mumbled to himself.

“Erik, what’s wrong?” Meg asked.

“Nikolai just told me they’re starting renovations of one of the practice room corridors and they’re getting rid of the older pianos. I have to go there tomorrow to try to save two of them. I need them.”

Meg and Raoul looked at each other. “No offense, but are you going to expect me to move two pianos up a flight of stairs to your apartment?” Raoul asked with a laugh. “Because that’s… not going to happen.”

“Lazy bum,” Erik chided. 

“Just don’t be late for your own party, Erik. You’re the guest of honor. It’ll be poor form,” Meg warned.

“Do you know who you are talking to?” Erik snickered.

“Exactly what I’m afraid of, turd,” Meg laughed.

Saturday arrived with a cloudless summer sky and a cool breeze offering respite from blazing sunshine. Christine sat rather agitated on the piano bench, her fingers refusing to move on the keys. Her mind worked furiously as what she was going to do. She wanted to be angry, and what concerned her more was if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go up to Meg and slap her and yell, or if she wanted to run into Meg’s arm and hug her and thank her and cry on her. She wanted to hug Raoul and shower him with thank yous.

Then there was Erik. During her restless sleep, her rather dormant dream came slamming back into existence last night. It always began and ended the same. It began with Erik, seductively exploring her body, craving every inch of her skin. And it always ended with Kevin, digging his fingers into her flesh, strangling her, his hard fingers wrapping around her throat, screaming at her that no one would ever love like him. This afternoon she’d be face to face with practically three strangers, three people who saved her life. Saved her from the hands of abuse belonging to Kevin. There was the Erik she thought she knew - the angel of music who brought music back to life in her after it died with Gustav. How on earth was she going to get through the afternoon. What was she going to do? What was she going to say?

* * *

“Erik! Oh my gosh, you are fashionably LATE to your own welcome home party! What the heck did I warn you about yesterday?! You never listen to me. Didn’t they teach you punctuality, or because you’re a professional doctorate student, time means nothing!” Meg ran into Erik’s lanky arms with a delighted laugh. His mask shifted from the welcomed assault of hugs.

“Erik, you should really know better by now than to piss her off,” Raoul took Erik’s hand and roughly pulled him into a bear hug. Erik felt his mask beginning to shift around his face, causing uncomfortable friction upon his skin.  _ They’re just glad to see you… forget the mask. You’re home. _

“Any luck with the pianos?” Meg asked.

“Sadly no. Senor Piangi explained someone bought them… both of them! For $300! I swear that man puts a price tag on music. I’m surprised he doesn’t charge a creativity fee on doctoral students. The man is insufferable!” 

“Erik, my boy! It’s good to see you!” Dr. Marrenesco barrelled over to Erik and embraced him. “My prize student! Welcome home, Erik!”

“Thank you, sir, it’s really good to be back.”

Everyone settled into a comfortable fellowship, with stories and laughter and love. Erik felt at peace, and for the first time in a really long time, he felt happy.

Christine pulled into the long driveway and parked. She sat there for a while looking at the multitude of vehicles parked in front of her. She heard the laughter. She heard voices exchanging stories. She heard Meg’s laugh. Christine opened the door, hesitated, then slammed it shut and hit the steering wheel hard with the palms of her hands. She was scared to death, she was anxious as hell, nerves coursing through her veins like a lead weight. She could just leave. She could turn around and leave, just say she wasn’t feeling well and not go. No, she couldn’t avoid this. She had to confront this for good.  _ No more running _ . 

Christine grabbed her overnight bag and walked slowly up the driveway to the small stairs leading up to the backyard of Meg and Raoul’s home. The voices and laughter getting louder and clearer. She could hear a voice, a very familiar voice she hadn’t heard in two years. His voice. He was talking, but it might as well have been him singing. Oh how his voice was low and dulcet, like melted dark chocolate effortlessly poured in silky ribbons.

“So that’s when Meg and Raoul told me they were engaged, and want-...” Erik’s voice dropped into complete silence. His eyes locked upon the petite figure of what looked like an angel bathed in heavenly sunshine. Christine’s long, brown curls cascaded down the right side of her face, sunlight catching glimmers of pure white streaks of hair, enveloping her in a halo of innocence. Erik felt a knot form in his gut and throat as this known angel breathlessly walked towards him, his hands falling lifelessly to his sides.  _ My God, it can’t be; it simply cannot be her… here, now, after all this time. _

“Welcome home, Erik. We finally meet.”


	18. Confessions

**Chapter 18: Confessions**

Erik stood frozen, his face rigid and unmoving, his brow scrunching in confusion, in panic, and in anger. His eyes burned with heated angst as they glanced dumbstruck at Christine’s hand, reaching out. He didn’t dare meet her own burning green eyes. The knot of nausea in his stomach began morphing into an entity with snarling teeth and sharp claws, scratching and scraping and digging upwards to his throat where it shredded and slashed at his voice, causing a choked gasp for air. The monster within begging to unleash its fury upon everyone within reach. His eyes quickly jumped from Raoul to Meg then back to Raoul, then to Meg again. Raoul and Meg suddenly sensed extreme danger, shoulders and bodies cowering and sinking away from Erik, as the threat of violence loomed dangerously upon an unstable threshold, eyes wide with panic.

“Miss Daae, what an absolutely pleasant surprise to see you!” Dr. Marrenesco’s jovial voice broke through the dangerously thick tension with a palpable calmness. “How is it that you know our Erik?”

Erik immediately closed his eyes while breathing and swallowing down the vicious monster threatening to erupt. His body jerked suddenly, as if forcing it back behind the barriers of memories and remembering the woman before him. “Dr. Marrenesco, it’s very nice to see you again,” he heard Christine’s oddly calm voice greet his mentor. Erik’s mind worked fitfully trying to piece these past seconds together, trying to make sense of the utter chaos swirling inside.

“Nikolai, if you please. I trust the pianos you procured have found a lovely home with you?” Nikolai reached to shake Christine’s hand in greeting. _ The pianos? She’s the one who took them? _

“Yes, sir, they have. I thank you again for your advocacy with Dean Piangi…” she couldn’t finish her sentence as the overly boisterous and thick Italian-accented Piangi and the shrill voice of Carlotta rang forth from the outer boundary of the backyard.

“Nikolai! Erik! Hello guests! May I introduce my lovely wife, Carlotta Giudicelli,” Piagni broadcasted overly grandiose so as everyone could hear.

“Hello, hello, yes I am here. Grazi!” Carlotta chimed in at a stereotypical prima donna entrance. For once, Erik welcomed the arrival of this pair, as he shot a hardened stare at Meg and Raoul.

“You two, a word. Now,” Erik growled as he balled his fist around the short sleeve of Raoul’s shirt and dragged him inside with Meg in toe, through the dining room, through the sitting room, up the stairs, and threw him into the guest room. The door slammed and rattled the panes of the bedroom windows. Meg and Raoul stood completely still, heads hung like two children about to get punished. Erik’s back remained taut and rigid, his ragged, uneven breaths coursing the fury through his veins. “What do you have to say for yourselves?” A heavy silence. Not an uttered word to pierce it. “What have you meddling, vindictive fools done?” Erik’s voice grew increasingly louder with each word.

Raoul grabbed Meg’s hand in reassurance and opened the bedroom door and uttered a simple sentence, “Bringing you back to life.” The pair turned and left, gently closing the door behind them and went back outside to the party, leaving Erik dumbstruck and speechless. After what seemed like an eternity, Erik collapsed to his knees, his long arms hanging lifelessly upon his thighs, sweat beading on his brow, his breathing coming out in staggered, quiet sobs as his tears freely fell.  _ Bringing you back to life _ . Raoul’s words echoed in his ears.  _ Bringing you back to life _ . At what cost? Did it mean he would have to die all over again in bonds of tragedy only to be reborn today into more heartache?

God only knows the amount of time that had passed since the confrontation. Minutes, or hours, or only mere seconds, when a quiet knock broke Erik from the memories and thoughts spiralling out of control in his brain. “Erik, it’s Meg,” she said as she cautiously opened the door. “I’m sorry to intrude, but…”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” he toned littered with sarcasm.

Meg swallowed hard, “I understand. However, your absence grows increasingly noticed. Come back outside.” Meg backed away but kept the door ajar. The longest evening of Erik’s life was about to begin.

Reappearing outside, the warm sun was blinding. It was hot and a warm breeze blew as Erik felt the waves of heat upon his face, his eyes closed as he took a deep, steadying breath; he inhaled a familiar, beautiful scent, of lavender and rose water. He glanced in the direction upon hearing a beautiful laugh, only to find Christine chatting with Dr. Marrenesco, and _ My God she is stunning.  _ Almost as if she could actually  _ hear _ his thoughts, her eyes locked onto his. Christine was immediately transported back to the first time she ever saw his face, the night she gaped and gasped in shock and surprise at not just the white half mask upon his face but the hypnotizing crystal blue waters of his eyes. She could drown forever in his eyes. “Excuse me for a minute, Nikolai,” she said politely and made to stand up but much too quickly. And as happened so many times before, the sudden full weight placed on her leg sent pain shooting through her leg and caused her knee to buckle under her. Her hand shot out to regain her balance. Erik’s eyes never left their locked gaze as he watched in horror. She usually seemed so much more graceful.

“Good heavens, Miss Daae, are you quite alright?” Nikolai asked rather concerned.

Christine flushed in embarrassment as her eyes inventoried the other concerned looks upon her. She closed her eyes to almost will them to stop staring, “Yes, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. Excuse me.” She looked up to see Erik’s eyes boring into her, heated and concerned and glossed over in a tinge of sadness. She hobbled slightly and brushed past Erik, suddenly not wanting to acknowledge his existence. God only knows what he thought of her in this moment. Christine sped through the kitchen towards the bathroom and quickly closed the door.

She wanted the tears to stop pooling in her eyes. She tried to will her lips and chin from quivering. Her resolve from just three hours earlier, the gumption she had conjured deep within upon getting out of the truck and walking up to the house was quickly dissolving. He was here. He was here in the flesh. And he couldn’t have cared less.  _ Doesn’t he remember? He doesn’t remember. You only imagined him wanting you. He’s moved on. You’re too damaged. Damaged. Scarred. Ruined. Damaged. Done. _ She heaved out stifled sobs with each word. Her anxiety began coursing uncomfortable heat through her body. Sweat beading on her brow, perspiration matting her heavy curls to her neck. She slipped the hair tie from her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun and turned on the water. The coldness shocked her hot skin as she splashed water on her face and neck. She glanced up hesitantly and looked back at her reflection. The sun had already started giving her skin a summer’s kiss of color, causing the white scars to pop out even more exaggerated. Her went fingers began tracing one scar from the hairline of her brow down to her temple. She raised her other hand, water droplets lingering cold kisses upon her fingertips as they traced the smaller glass-cut scars on her jaw, down her neck, along the lines of her shoulder.  _ Damaged and scarred. Battered. Bruised.  _ She closed her eyes as she let out a final sigh, “I cried for you.” Drying her face, Christine pulled down her hair and tactfully placed strands of hair in front of her scars to serve as her own mask to hide behind.

“There you are!” Meg said as she jogged up to Christine. “I wanted to introduce you to my parents and also Raoul’s parents.” She took Christine’s hand and led her to the de Chagnys and then to her parents. “Christine, this is my mom, Anna, and my dad, Jacques. Mom, Dad? This is my best friend Christine.”

Mrs. Giry positively beamed and hugged Christine hard, “It is wonderful to finally meet you, sweet girl. My Meg absolutely raves about you. You are a vision, sweetie, but you need some meat on your bones.” 

Meg rolled her eyes and laughed, “I should have warned you: mom wants nothing more than to feed EVERYONE. Don’t be surprised if she tries to cook you dinners and overtake your refrigerator with leftovers. It’s amazing Raoul and I don’t weigh a combined 700 pounds.”

Christine smiled into Anna’s embrace, it was warm and comforting. It was the embrace of a mother, and Christine felt at home in this woman’s arms. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Giry,” Christine breathed in the motherly warmth. 

“You have two options: you either call me Anna or Mama Giry. Sweet Erik calls me that and I find it endearing. Just don’t ask what Raoul calls me after all these years,” Mrs. Giry said with a wink at Raoul. Now she could see where Meg got her warmness from, but as with how the entire afternoon had been, Christine felt Erik’s burning eyes starting at her with every movement she made.

After everyone had eaten themselves to their content and the wine and spirits began to mellow the mood, the musicians came to life. Romantic stories of lives of traveling orchestras, composers, and personal exploits rang through the night air. The sun quickly set and the fire pit was ablaze as one by one everyone pulled up a chair to roast marshmallows for s’mores. The flow of rich red wine warmed hearts and heated passion within the underbellies of the couples in attendance. 

A large, firm hand landed gently on Erik’s shoulder. Raoul Sr. had motioned to Erik to join him a little ways from the growing company at the fire pit. Erik followed closely behind with piqued curiosity. “I’ve observed your behavior this afternoon, Erik. I can only speculate your tension is from the attendance of one young woman.” 

Erik felt very exposed. The last heart to heart he and Raoul Sr. had was Christmas evening, while Erik hesitantly shared his sketches of Christine. “I , uh, I apologize, sir. I’m not sure of what you speak:”

“Oh come now, Erik! I recognized that woman immediately from your sketches. And I’ve observed you the entire afternoon.” Erik felt his face glow red with embarrassment. “Dear lad, you’ve been a ball of nerves ever since you’ve laid eyes on her. Go to her, talk to her.”

“I don’t know how to, Mr. de Chagny. I don't know what to say,” Erik said heavy with regret. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go. 

“Yes you do. Speak to her the best you know how: with your music. Give her your music, son.” Erik looked surprised. This always formal man who very rarely showed a human moment was actually giving him loving advice to  _ win _ a woman’s heart. Soon the sound of strumming guitar strings broke these men from their conversation as Dr. Marrenesco began singing an old Romanian folk song from his childhood. Raoul Sr and Erik walked over towards the group around the fire pit. Each couple paired up together with their respective spouses or significant others as the music cast its magical spell. Through the dancing yellow flames of the fire, a cool night breeze swirled and cooled their faces. Erik sat directly across from Christine. He felt a sense of peace emitting from her and she was immersed in a beautiful glow. The flames catching glistening sparkles of the green of her eyes turning them a rich emerald. Eyes of jewels. He never really noticed them before, how deep and intense they were. Christine felt Erik’s eyes and glanced up at him and attempted a shy grin. Her grin, however, must have come off sad and nervous as Erik quickly looked away. The way he stared at her made her heart race and her blood boil with some unknown feeling. It was nothing she had ever felt before. And it was a look that she had never seen. Kevin’s glances were of possession, of obsession, of vile lust. Erik’s was different. It was as if he were on a maiden voyage to discover everything about her: every thought, every feeling, everything about music she breathed to life. 

“Erik, would you sing for us?” Nikolai asked as he passed the guitar to Erik, breaking him of his inner thoughts. “We’ve all been two years without that voice of yours. And I’m sure Ms. Daae would like to hear you sing for the first time.” Christine almost let an audible chuckle escape her throat, but she quickly stifled it.  _ If only they knew what I have heard before. What we had made together _ . “Oh, uh, I don’t think I could tonight,” Erik stammered through an excuse.

“Sing, Erk,” Raoul said. Erik shook his head in almost disbelief. After all that had unfolded this afternoon with this party and the an the unbelievable arrival of Christine, this guy had the audacity to voice a command. The affirmation of other voices resounded within the group as they all gave a unified consensus. Erik nestled the guitar in his lap, feeling Christine’s eyes staring at him intently. He felt exposed under her gaze. Something inside him shifted as his body craved the familiar feeling of making music for her, with her.

_ You're beautiful so silently  
_ _ It lies beneath a shade of blue  
_ _ It struck me so violently  
_ _ When I looked at you _

_ But others pass, they never pause,  
_ _ To feel that magic in your hand  
_ _ To me you're like a wild rose  
_ _ They never understand why _

_ I cried for you  
_ _ When the sky cried for you  
_ _ And when you went  
_ _ I became a hopeless drifter  
_ _ But this life was not for you  
_ _ Though I learned from you,  
_ _ That beauty need only be a whisper _

Everyone sat spellbound and breathless. Finally Erik looked at Christine and shyly smiled. How he missed giving her the gift of his music and voice.

_ I'll cross the sea for a different world,  
_ _ With your treasure, a secret for me to hold _

_ In many years they may forget  
_ _ This love of ours or that we met,  
_ _ They may not know  
_ _ how much you meant to me. _

Christine felt something shift in her as well. The all too familiar feeling infiltrated her senses. She was transported to the many late evenings in the music building, listening to Erik serenade her, singing along with him. Without even realizing, she ever so steadily stood and walked cautiously toward the vacant chair next to Erik. Tears threatening to escape. Her voice joined with Erik’s in a beautiful harmony and there was an audible intake of breath when their voices joined together.

_ I cried for you  
_ _ And the sky cried for you,  
_ _ And when you went  
_ _ I became a hopeless drifter.  
_ _ But this life was not for you,  
_ _ Though I learned from you,  
_ _ That beauty need only be a whisper _

_ Without you now I see,  
_ _ How fragile the world can be  
_ _ And I know you've gone away  
_ _ But in my heart you'll always stay. _

_ I cried for you  
_ _ And the sky cried for you,  
_ _ And when you went  
_ _ I became a hopeless drifter.  
_ _ But this life was not for you,  
_ _ Though I learned from you,  
_ _ That beauty need only be a whisper,  
_ _ That beauty need only be a whisper. _

There was utter silence as Erik and Christine finished their song, staring intensely at each other as the familiar feeling of making music together overcame them. It wasn’t until the hiss and pop from the firewood drew the others from the magic they had just witnessed into a thunderous applause. “My dear Miss Daae, how on earth are you NOT in the music program?! The two of you are a force to be reckoned with!” exclaimed Nikolai excitedly. Could Christine be his next music protege, or better yet: could she be Erik’s?

“Her voice is just ok,” chimed in Carlotta rather annoyed and under her breath. She was only jealous and envious of the raw talent, perhaps a threat to be dealt with. “Her voice was masked by the guitar, very easy to get drowned out with such a meager voice.” 

Christine immediately blushed with embarrassment and began cowering away back into the shadows. “Madam, I can assure you just as the sun rises, Christine has the voice of an angel,” Erik snapped back and shot a look at Christine, words wanting to tumble out shouting his love and wanting to fall at her feet to beg for forgiveness. Carlotta scoffed and quickly grabbed Dean Piangi with an excuse it was getting late and they had to prepare for greater things for the holiday. Shortly thereafter a few others began to say their goodbyes and well wishes for a pleasant holiday weekend before the first summer session was to begin in another week.

Meg, Raoul, Erik and Christine stayed around the fire pit with Dr. Marrenesco and his wife. The rest of the company had departed. It was inching ever so closer to 11:30PM before Nikolai bid a good evening. Erik got up to escort his mentor to their car. “Well Erik, I am most happy to have you back for good. Let’s get started first thing next week. I’d love to hear how your symphony has taken shape,” Nikolai said with a firm handshake and taking his guitar from Erik, and a quick hug before adding, “That young woman up there… she’s something special, isn’t she?” And Nikolai winked. “Go get her, lad… she hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off you all evening.” Erik again felt heat rising to his face and his heart beat wildly in his chest. As he and Nikolai bid goodnight, Erik remained in the dark driveway, wrestling internally with what to do. All the guests had departed, and now it was just the four of them. And suddenly the questions hit him hard: did Christine actually  _ know  _ who she was really with? Did she know about Meg and Raoul, or were they being just as deceitful with her as they were with him? The whole situation was damnable, but what to do? Suddenly a bright flash of lightning lit the sky and a loud crack of thunder echoed on the horizon. A few drops began falling to the earth, opening the sounds and smells of a summer’s night storm. The storm looming within Erik, however, had been raging all afternoon. 

Upon arriving in the backyard, Erik found that most of the party items were back inside. By the time he grabbed the remaining items from the picnic table, the rain was falling more steady and the thunder was getting louder with the approaching storm. Erik came inside to the sounds of Raoul and Meg tying up trash bags and Christine rinsing dishes and loading up the dishwasher. She was humming quietly to herself. Erik walked over to the sink and stood awkwardly with a few plates and cups in his hands. Christine turned from the dishwasher and let out an audible gasp to find Erik so close. She watched his mouth open as if to say something, anything, but he quickly clamored the dishes onto the countertop next to the sink. Christine watched him carefully as Erik was immediately by Raoul’s side. She couldn’t hear much with clarity except one clipped phrase, “We need to talk. Upstairs. Now.” And she watched as Erik and Raoul disappeared upstairs to the guest rooms. Her eyes moved over to Meg, who gave an awkward smile, trying to mask how nervous she truly was. This whole was completely out of sorts, and the only ones to blame were her and Raoul. Meg turned her attention back to cleaning up as Christine tried to wrap her mind around the events of the afternoon and evening. What could she even say? How was she going to say it? How could she possibly confront all of them? Did Erik know this whole time? Why hadn’t he said anything to her? Why would he go to such great lengths to avoid her? Was it that he was simply as dumbfounded as she was, or was it that she had simply imagined all this time that he felt anything at all towards her? Her attention turned back to the dishwasher.

Upstairs, Erik and Raoul stood facing each other, the tension palpable. Erik didn’t even know where to begin or what to say; whether to completely lash out or to crumble under the weight of the most surreal events of the day? Raoul stood patiently, calmly, waiting. Finally Erik spoke. “Why have you brought her here? I don’t understand how any of this could possibly be real. What on earth possessed you two to take my life into your hands and attempt to manage it? Haven’t I been through enough? I thought you were different.”

With a heavy, steadying sigh, Raoul assumed the defense, “Erik, I love you. Meg loves you. Our parents love you. In just the few years I’ve known you, you’ve become more of a brother to me than Phillip ever has been, or ever could be for that matter. I’ve watched and witnessed the pain of your past stagnate you, forever haunting you, forever keeping you from truly  _ living _ life. The first time you ever heard Christine, I noticed an immediate change in you - for the better. For the first time, you breathed and exuded life and happiness. And for the first time, I saw you truly smile. Something changed in you that night; Meg and I both saw it. My parents saw it; and for my dad to even talk to me about it, or anything at all for that matter, is truly something magnificent. I know you don’t want to hear it, but Erik, this is all part of God’s plan for you and your life, and I…”

“Again, you incessantly bring up some omnipotent being that doesn’t exist! Why are you doing this?  _ WHY?! _ ”

The bonds of brotherhood and love rocked and moved in Raoul’s soul, and for the first time since asking Meg to marry him, he actually felt tears pooling in his eyes. “Have you not heard a word I just said?” Frustration mounting. “I swear, Erik, I love you but you’re too stubborn for your own good. When that girl… young woman gracefully appeared into your life, you changed. I saw you change. Meg saw you change. You were different, and for once you seemed hopeful for the future instead of terrorizing yourself internally with this war. I know what you’ve done in the past, I know what you did. God knows what you did. You know what you did. But that’s all it is: it’s in the past. And right now, in this house, your future is HERE, NOW. And she’s downstairs washing dishes, masking behind God only knows what her own turmoil has been; but she’s here, right now… she’s an arm’s length away. You’ve found her, Erik. And she’s found you! And I swear if you screw this up, you will never forgive yourself. You let this moment pass without as much as acknowledging her, you are never going to live with yourself. She won’t care what you’ve done. You saved her life, Erik. And as God as my witness, I know this much is true…” Raoul took a steadying breath and stamped out three poignant words, “SHE. SAVED. YOURS.” Movement in the hallway immediately caused both men to go completely still and quiet as they watched Christine pick up her bag from her room, a bath towel in hand as she made her way back down the steps for a shower. 

“Well I think we’re all cleaned up. Thank you, Chrissie, for all your help!”

“No problem. Listen, is it ok if I grab a quick shower?”

“Of course, top of the steps to the left is the other guest room. I put a towel and washcloth up there for you. Do you need any shampoo or anything?”

“No, I’m fine. I have stuff in my bag, but thanks.” Christine exited the kitchen and made her way up the steps. The sound of Raoul’s low but urgent voice struck her as she quietly and slowly moved up towards the top landing outside the guest rooms. And that’s when she heard it “she saved yours.” So he didn’t know, did he? Erik didn’t know she’d be here. Otherwise, things would have been so completely different, wouldn’t it? The thoughts and questions swirled in Christine’s head and she was swimming and almost drowning in the question of what happens now?  _ Will he say something to me? What will he say? What will he do? What am I going to say? What should I be saying to him? _ The creak of the wood floor drew unwanted attention, and Raoul’s voice became immediately quiet. She had to pretend she didn’t hear anything.  _ Everything within its own time _ . She quickly rummaged through her bag for her pajamas and toiletries, grabbed her bath towel and washcloth and scurried down the stairs as quick as possible.

Christine closed the door behind her and turned on the water. Her hands shaking uncontrollably. They were talking about her. She was the object of their conversation. What did Raoul mean by “she saved you”? She carefully undressed as steam began building from behind the shower curtain. Pulling down her skirt, she felt a familiar sharp pain cascade down her leg and around her knee. She had spent way too much time on her feet and the tension building in her body wasn’t helping. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and again stared back at her reflection. She glanced down at her leg to see the long white scar from the surgery, the inserting of rods and pins and plates to reset the bone. Her eyes made their way down the length of her torso, she was too thin. Her ribs too protruding. Her breasts and skin were not as supple as years ago. She simply felt like a skeleton, a shell of her former self. She looked sickly, almost like the undead. She closed her eyes and somehow was transported back to that horrific night. The disappointment and hurt she felt when Erik didn’t show for their anticipated meeting. The feeling of Kevin’s vice grip upon her arms, his hot, angry breath upon her skin as he pushed her into the car. She couldn’t stop the tears as she climbed into the shower. The smell of her lavender soap filled her senses as she wanted to wash and scrub away the memories.

A few moments later, Christine emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of linen shorts and a tank top. She moved around the corner to head towards the stairs when she almost bumped into an unsuspecting Erik coming around the opposite corner. Their eyes briefly met but in the glow of a tableside lamp, Erik’s eyes roved to the very pronounced scars on the side of Christine’s face, her jaw, her neck, down to her shoulders. And finally, he caught side of the puckered, white scars on her leg, so pronounced and rigid, raised ridges upon her perfectly fragrant skin. Christine felt her eyes slide close in what she couldn’t clearly identify. It was a feeling of shame combined with a strange sense of vulnerability and angst under his gaze. Erik’s eyes slid close as well, but only in a failing effort to will his tears from falling. He felt nothing but crushing guilt laced with bouts of desire at seeing her so exposed before him. But Christine felt his was more of disgust and embarrassment, and with disgust in herself, quickly wrapped her towel around her shoulders to shield herself and slipped around him and went up the stairs.

Erik made his way into the bathroom and was overtaken by the smells of earthly lavender and rose water, fragrances of his beloved. He stood and breathed in the scents of this beautiful creature who had forever haunted every waking thoughts, every restless night, every dream for nearly three years. The steam from the shower clung to his soft, pale skin, making the scents of Christine even more unmistakable. He pulled off his clothes and neatly folded them into a pile on the sink. He stared at himself in horror - the scars so very visible over his torso, the light gray circles from the multiple cigar burns, the scars from the lashings from the melt-end of the belt. He was too thin, his rib protruding prominently under his skin. His legs long and lanky, knobbly knees barely holding up his tall form. His broad shoulders and his expansive wingspan gave him an odd, disproportionate shape. He sighed heavily, feeling like he would never have anything to offer her. In his last movements, Erik delicately removed the half mask from the right side of his face, and finally, removed the dark brown wig. The straggly strands of silver hair sticking up in a disheveled mess, and there in the steamed over mirror, his deformity stared back at him. The right side of his swollen, misshapen lips turned downwards. His long, lithe fingers began tracing the pattern of puckered skin along his cheeks, the hollowness of the valleys of his face, and finally, they reached the malformed, gaping crevice of his skull, the transparent skin pulled over in shallow layers, exposing the smooth surface of his skull, bulging blue veins throbbing to the beat of his pulse. The balls of his palms reaching his eyes as he massaged them tenderly, thoughts racing of what all this day and night had entailed. One final glance at his form, Erik climbed into the shower to wash and scrub away his own memories. Erik toweled himself off and began applying medicated cream to his face and a moisturizing lotion to the numerous scars littering his torso. 

He emerged from the bathroom to see Meg and Raoul already showered and in their pajamas. The electric kettle was boiling away. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the dimly lit house followed immediately with a booming crack of thunder which shook the house. “Well that one hit close,” Meg sighed uneasily in the kitchen as she poured four mugs of hot tea. “I didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight, it’s rather unexpected.” 

Erik was next to her drinking a glass of water and quipped menacingly in her ear, “A lot of things about this day were unexpected, Meg. You of all people should know that.”

“Cool it, ok?! Erik that’s enough!” Meg whispered harshly, her blue eyes afire. “Crap happened today and it’s not like we PLANNED on any of this ever happening. When I first met Christine last month…” and she stopped herself and brought her hand immediately over her mouth, her eyes full of panic.

Erik pursed his lips tightly, a menacing, low growl bubbling in the back of his throat. “Meg, let me help you with the tea,” Christine said quietly as she walked over. She donned a cardigan which now covered the scars on her neck and shoulder and had changed into a pair of long linen pants to hide the markings on her leg.

“Thanks, but I think I’m gonna go to bed. Good night you guys.” Raoul was quickly following Meg to their bedroom as Christine heard Meg’s quiet voice say sadly, “He’s so mad at me…” and she watched as Meg wiped her eyes. 

Another loud crack of thunder made Christine jump and spilled her hot tea on her fingers. She never enjoyed thunderstorms in the dark of night. During the day, sure, it was fine, you could actually see the danger looming on the horizon if needed. But at night… at night nothing good lingered in the darkness. “I think I’m heading to bed as well. Good night,” she said quietly as Raoul re-entered the kitchen.

“Good night, Christine,” Raoul said and shot Erik pointed eyes. After Christine disappeared up the stairs, Raoul shook his head in disappointment. “It’s one thing to be pissed at me, Erik. It’s something totally different when you threaten Meg. Don’t ever disrespect my fiancee again.”

“I wouldn’t be this way, if it hadn’t…”

“Erik, just shut up! Seriously, just shut up. Ok, I’m sorry, I really am. I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you, ok? I can apologize for the rest of my life, but you do NOT threaten Meg. Take your anger and frustration out on me, but don’t you ever speak to her like that again. Like… after all this time, you really seriously think we’re both vindictive and meddling? That girl is upstairs RIGHT NOW, sleeping across the hall from you, and you haven’t said two words to her. Read her body language, Erik - she’s shutting down on us. She’s shutting down on you. And she’s shutting down on herself. I hurt for that poor girl, and you’re not helping.” Erik attempted to cut in but Raoul held up a firm hand. “I can’t talk about this anymore with you. I’m going to bed. Good night.” And Raoul quietly departed and closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Erik standing completely alone as the storm raged on. It was a little after 12:30AM when Erik finally walked up the stairs towards his room. He paused momentarily outside Christine’s door, wanting to knock and go to her. Instead, he went to his room, closed the door, and laid on the bed staring at the dark ceiling, his mind racing. Raoul’s words weighing heavy on him as he listened to the steady, pelting rhythm of the rain against the windows.

* * *

Christine’s sleep was restless, fitful. Her dreams were nothing but a constant repeat of the events of the afternoon, memories from two years ago raging in her head. By the time she had finally fallen still, a very familiar dream reappeared. But this time, on this very night, it was so much more detailed. She could feel and smell, and hear everything. She felt Erik’s heated kisses kisses mapping every line and every detail from her lips down to her neck, seductively skating across her collar bone, his hands working frantically to peel off her clothing. The so familiar warm scent of ivory soap and of earl grey tea filling her senses as her fingers lightly ghosted up Erik’s bare back. She could feel the wetness of his tongue penetrating with desire as he invaded her ever-welcoming mouth. His moans and pleading whispers of her name upon his lips sent thrilling chills down her spine. His mouth worked frantically to consume every inch of her skin. She gasped as his lips feasted hungrily upon her breasts as she cried out his name. But suddenly her breath hitched at the bite of teeth at the base of her throat. Strong hands and fingers began ripping the flesh at her hairline, gorging and digging into the nape of her neck. Earnest panting quickly giving way to blood curdling shrieks of pain and horror. “No! Stop it… please STOP IT! NO!” The words scorching her throat as she was pleading with helpless abandon. The gnashing of teeth and fingers continued ripping through her skin as her eyes shot open to find that Erik’s soft and pure face with Kevin’s angry and hard expressions. “I told you, Christine… no one will love you like me. NO ONE!!!”  _ Oh God, stop, NO! _ Her fighting wasn’t enough and the painful, gut wrenching gnashing of Kevin’s teeth never ceased as his hands wrapped tightly around her throat. Choking, she couldn’t breathe.  _ God please, no. Erik, help me! _ “NO ONE CHRISTINE! NO ONE!!!!”

With a strangled gasp, Christine jolted up from her deep slumber, her brown curls completely matted to her sweat-soaked face, neck, and back, tears streaming down her face.  _ Just a dream, just a nightmare _ . She attempted to remind herself as she tried to adjust to this new setting while piling up her hair into a messy bun to find some kind of relief. She peaked at the nightstand and the dull green clock numbers peaked back at her, 2:36AM. Forcing her memory into the present, she remembered where she was: Meg and Raoul’s house, spending the night.  _ That’s right, the party _ . As Christine sat up in the bed, her head throbbed with a pulsing migraine. Gently yet unstably plucking herself from the bed, her head pounded into a steady beat.  _ Meds, water… water _ . Remembering there was no bathroom on the second floor, Christine stumbled as quietly and as mouse-like as possible down the stairs to the kitchen.

Erik still laid in bed staring at the ceiling when he heard the sound of a door opening and the creak of the wooden floor by the staircase. He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, and cautiously moved to his bedroom door and quietly peered out to see Christine quietly heading downstairs. Something didn’t seem right, but he lingered near his door, waiting for her to come back.

Clutching the railing to keep her bad knee from giving out, Christine finally made it to the main level and shakily teetered her way into the kitchen. It was so dark and so quiet except for the heavy rain pelting the windows, but the stillness was unnerving. Meg and Raoul slept in their master bedroom on the main level, adjacent to the short hallway off the kitchen. “I hope I don’t wake them,” Christine quietly mumbled to herself while snooping the squeaky cabinets for a glass. Finally discovering their hiding place rather high up, Christine levitated to the balls of her feet to grab a glass but her aching knee shouted in agonizing protest and buckled underneath her, sending both body and glass crumbling to the hard floor. 

The glass shattered as soon as it hit the floor and Christine let out an injured yelp. Suddenly Meg appeared around the corner, eyes wide. “Oh God, Chrissie… don’t move or you’ll cut yourself. Stay right there. Raoul?!” 

Raoul emerged around the corner bleary-eyed and hair disheveled; but seeing Christine crumpled on the floor in pain and shattered glass everywhere, “Are you ok? What can we do?” Meg went to the closet for the dustpan and vacuum. Both feeling helpless. Of course they had seen a migraine overtake Christine just a week ago at dinner, but this, this was something completely different. The pain from migraine and aching limbs combined was excruciating, and Christine winced in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I needed water, and I need my meds.” Christine voiced in humiliation. Her embarrassment painting her face red while her migraine-filled head pounded like a drum corps and her knee screamed in fury.  _ I’m nothing but a disaster _ . 

“Chrissie, don’t worry about it. Where are your medications?” Meg pleaded. “I’ll get them… are they upstairs in your bag?” Christine nodded as Meg stood and turned to head upstairs. “Erik, can you help Christine to the living room? She needs to get off the floor and her knee up.”

In the chaos of shattered glass, Christine never noticed Erik peering around the corner, observing the unfolding events. He had kept such a cautious distance between himself and Christine all day and evening. He barely spoke two words to her, but his gaze was never floundering. Christine’s eyes met Erik’s as he kneeled down to wrap his arms around her for support. “Hold on to me, Christine,” he said in just a whisper that sent goosebumps up her spine. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than a feather, his arms holding her with such a protective force it took her breath away. And his scent, oh his scent, was intoxicating… such a unique and familiar combination of ivory soap and earl grey tea. She couldn’t help but inhale and feel just a mild degree of relief and an odd sense of nostalgia. Just as easily as Erik has picked up Christine, he just as gently placed her on the couch. As Erik maneuvered the arm that was under Christine’s back, she noticed how incredibly close his face was to hers. Slowly turning her head, Christine tilted her eyes upward to meet his once more and their lips were incredibly close. “Thank you, Erik…”

Closing his eyes, he whispered a barely audible “you’re welcome” and went to grab a pillow to prop up her bad knee. “May I?” he gestured to her knee and Christine nodded. Looking down the length of her leg, Erik extended a hesitant hand to maneuver a pillow under Christine’s knee. Letting his fingers just barely brush one of the more angrier scars on her leg, he slowly sat on the edge of the coffee table, letting his eyes hesitantly follow the scars from her leg, to her arm, to her bare shoulder, and finally to the long, deep scar that contoured the shape of Christine’s hairline and face. An unnameable emotion flashed across his face as Christine realized how bare she was and how visible her battle wounds had become under Erik’s gaze.

“Chrissie, I couldn’t find your medications and didn’t want to rifle through your bag, so I brought it down. Erik, can you grab this? I’ll get some water.” Meg handed the bag to Erik, who placed it in his lap. “Allow me, Christine.” His voice was so soft, comforting. Immediately he found her medications, and almost as if he already knew what they were for and how much, he placed the pills into her hand one by one. “One for anxiety, two for inflammation and pain, and one for migraine?” Erik asked very quietly. “No anxiety. Only for emergencies,” Christine motioned as Erik placed three of the four pills into her hand. Meg came over with a glass of water while Raoul tucked the vacuum away. The pair sat next to each other on the opposite couch, watching carefully. 

A heavy silence between the four of them as Christine swallowed the pills and took a steadying breath. With a very calculated sigh, she reached for her bag still resting in Erik’s lap. His eyes watching very carefully as she pulled from the bag a thick folder, filled with dozens and dozens of paper. Her breathing harsh and fast, nausea threatening to spill the contents of her rolling stomach. Anxiety and anger and sadness wrapped themselves around Christine as she opened the folder and leafed through the pages to the one listing three distinctive names. Her eyes stared intensely at Meg and Raoul. “I know who you are. I know what you did. But what I don’t know is why the hell you didn’t tell me,” her voice hoarse as she tried to speak through the incessant throbbing in her head.

Meg released an airy whimper as her tears spilled. Raoul audibly cursed. And Erik glanced at the pair. “A question I myself have been demanding an answer to all day.”

“Right now, no one is to say a word, even you,” Christine said quietly as she looked at Erik. He nodded in careful affirmation as Meg and Raoul sat breathlessly still. “After my dad died, I had a hard time coming back to life. So when I made the decision to go back to school, I felt like Western Cypress was a good chance to refresh and restart,” Christine began. “I heard and read things here and there about abusive relationships, but I never thought it would happen to me. Kevin was everything: charismatic, confident and extremely seductive by nature. I guess with hindsight being 50/50, I can now see all the tremendously dangerous red flags during the weeks leading up to that Fall 2003 semester starting.” 

Another steadying breath as a second round of thunderstorms boomed in the distance, lightning again filling the dimly lit living room, rain pelting hard, the wind beginning to howl. 

“I had arrived on campus a few weeks before the semester was to start to meet up with my roommate,  to explore the campus, and to buy my books. When I arrived on campus, my roommate was running  late because of traffic and I realized I didn’t have my class schedule with me to get my books. I ventured  into the library in hopes of logging into my account to download my course codes but for some reason  my password wasn’t working. After a few attempts, I started to walk out of the library when I heard Kevin’s voice for the first time.” Christine drew a deep breath as if she was being transported back to the library on that very day. She could smell the books, she could hear the clacking of typing fingers on keyboards, the murmurs of copier machines and printers. She spoke about this first encounter with Kevin with such detail, the feel of his lips when he kissed her, the thrill of him holding her close, the party, the confession of devoted love and affection.

“We kissed so passionately and so intensely, I felt an out-of-body experience, floating above observing how this was unfolding. We went back to the party and enjoyed the rest of the evening. He never left my side, watching over me, protective… claiming. After the party was over, I decided to stay the night, and as the quietness of the night serenaded our senses, I gave in to what my body was craving, and we slept together that night - my first time, and it wasn’t how I had pictured it to be, but I was young and stupid, inexperienced and, most obviously, completely naive.”

At this, Erik felt completely defeated and almost sick to his stomach. He took her innocence, that son of a bitch didn’t deserve that gift. But he quickly shut off his train of thought - no sense in trying to think that he would have, or could ever, deserve her.  _ If only I wasn’t such a coward… none of this would have happened. It’s my fault. It’s all your damn fault, you are despicable _ . She painted such a horrific picture of what her life was like with Kevin, how violent and volatile he had become, how possessive and abusive he was. And finally, the climax to that terrible night when each individual path of these four collided.

“He sped off so fast out of the parking lot and like a bullet he started speeding towards campus and downtown. He was screaming at me with such viciousness that I thought my heart would explode in agony. How could anyone be so cruel, so abusive, so manipulative, so angry… he called me broken; he said I was NOTHING without him. That no one would ever love me. Next thing I knew he hit me so hard I felt like my eyes would explode. And I felt an impact and heard the most horrific crunching and scraping of metal before things went black…” She didn’t hold back her tears any longer; she had to let go; she had to tell someone. All those months of agonizingly painful physical therapy, staring at her scars from her ripped open flesh on her legs, her knee swollen with remnants of scar tissue, the gashed scars on her thigh, the white-patterned scars laying out an artwork from the pins and metal rods used to reset her leg, the angry, long scars marring her face… and the white, solid streaks of hair that appeared the day after the accident… EVERYTHING was visible, and for the first time, she didn’t hide them, she showed them, openly. And for what honestly felt like the first time since Gustav’s funeral, Christine sobbed and wept.

Erik was overwrought with guilt. He could have prevented this whole thing if he wasn’t such a coward, if he didn’t screw up in the first place. If only he could have gotten over his fear and met her that night, none of this would have happened. “Why didn’t you come?” Christine sobbed as she stared at Erik. “Why didn’t you come that night? I’m so sorry I hurt you when I saw you that night and just stared. I’m so sorry, Erik, I’m so sorry. Forgive me; please forgive me.” A loud clap of thunder shook the house and all Christine could hear was the sound of smashing metal and breaking glass and the feel of the impact of the car crashing into the building. She flinched with fright as another crack of thunder shook the house, letting out a sobbing yelp as her mind raced to bring her back to the present. 

Erik couldn’t bear witness to her falling apart. “Christine,” he said as her wet eyes opened to meet his, “Christine, forgive me. Forgive me. I beg you to forgive me.” He gently cupped her small face in his hands, he almost wanted to chuckle at how petite she was as his hands practically swallowed her face, and brushed away the tears upon her cheeks with his thumbs. Christine leaned into his touch, it was everything she had ever dreamed it would feel like to have hands softly upon her skin.

She opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision and asked gently, “Let me see you.” Erik’s eyes went wide with panic. “Please, let me see you the way I remember you that night, when you held me, when you sang to me, when I saw you without this,” she whispered pleadingly as her fingers lightly touched the edge of his mask.

“You don’t know what you ask of me,” Erik cried, “Please don’t do this.”

Christine sighed heavily. “I’m tired of everyone telling me what I do and do not want; what I can and cannot handle. Erik, I need to see you, the way you appeared as my angel of music. The night you saved my life.” She paused, suddenly remembering Raoul’s poignant words, “And I saved yours.”

“Meg, Raoul, please leave us,” Erik said quietly over his shoulder. Even they had never seen his face exposed before. He turned back to Christine and simply said, “As you wish, and only for you.” Erik and Christine watched Meg and Raoul depart, and Meg’s parting words hung in the air, “We’re so sorry, and… we love you both.” And they went back into their bedroom, leaving Christine and Erik alone in the living room.

The thunder rolled again and the rain fell, the storm raged on. Christine shifted on the couch so she was sitting face to face with Erik. Their hands and fingers entwined together, holding fast, afraid of letting go should this dream come to an end. They were here, they were together, they were touching each other, and everything in this moment was so real, so alive, so raw. Erik brought Christine’s hands to his face, guided her fingers to the edges of his mask, and her small hands carefully and ever so gently slid the mask away from his face. Erik’s hands trembled in hers, his eyes glued shut as tears ran freely down his face. He heard Christine gasp and steadied herself with a long sigh. “Open your eyes and look at me,” she whispered and felt Erik nod emphatically with a no. “Erik, look at me, see me… feel me.” Her cold fingers began tracing every contour of his misshappend face. His swollen lips, the peaks and valleys, and suddenly he felt her fingers hesitate as they traced the line of his wig and began pulling it gently away from his head. Another yet less audible gasp, but suddenly felt her fingers fixing the straggly strands of grey patchy hair. His eyes remained glued shut as he sobbed, feeling her fingers continuing their gentle journey, mapping every feature. Her whispered voice again met his ears, “Look at me, see me, feel me. Erik, please, open your eyes and see me.” His eyes fluttered open, bloodshot red from crying. “Sing for me,” she requested. His eyes furrowed briefly then alit with realization of her request.

_ I’ll keep you safe  
_ _ Try hard to concentrate  
_ _ Hold out your hand  
_ _ Can you feel the weight of it  
_ _ The whole world at your fingertips  
_ _ Don’t be, don’t be afraid  
_ _ Our mistakes they were bound to be made  
_ __ But I promise you I’ll keep you safe

“There you are,” Christine breathed as the words Erik had sung to her the night he pulled her broken body from the wreckage, “my angel of music.”

The vulnerability and intimacy of this moment invade their senses. With Christine’s hands upon his face, Erik reached up, frantically searching her eyes for any hesitation about his movements, and when she didn’t look away, kissed her. He kissed her so tenderly, her lips so incredibly soft and forgiving and beautiful and warm. He drank in the feeling of her kissing him back, her heated breath upon his skin. They hesitantly broke away as the chiming of the clock in the living room chimed that it was quarter to four in the morning. The residual effects of the migraine medicine was entrancing Christine in a foggy cloud of exhaustion and heaviness. “May I assist you back to bed?” Erik asked and Christine nodded groggily. She made to stand up on her own but Erik quickly still her and instead, picked her up and cradled her in his steadying arms, and carried up the stairs and back to her room.

He gently laid her on the bed and watched as she made herself comfortable. And now the question remained: what do we do now? Erik turned to leave when he felt Christine’s hand grab his wrist and pulled him to her. “Lay with me for a little bit?” It was more than Erik could’ve asked for, even just minutes earlier he actually kissed a woman, and not just any woman, he kissed Christine. 

Erik walked to the other side of the bed as he heard Christine shift again to face him as he laid down. They laid completely still for a few moments, their eyes adjusting to the dark and staring at each other, eyes hungry for what the future would hold. Erik reached up and gently moved a few strands of hair that had fallen in her face and noticed a shy smile wrinkling upon her face. Christine reached for Erik’s hand and entwined her fingers with his and placed a gentle kiss upon his hands and closed her eyes. Erik laid completely still, listening to her breathing become heavier and deeper as she sank into sleep and a whisper moved over his lips. “Christine, I love you.”


	19. Reconciliation

**Chapter 19: Reconciliation**

A bright beam of light illuminated Christine’s face as she wearily blinked open her eyes. The tears shed from the previous night made her eyes dry and burn as she tried to blink away her sleep. The bedroom was flooded with warm, yellow light as her vision came into focus, suddenly realizing the sleeping form in front of her. She glanced down hesitantly to find, much to her relief, she and her companion fully clothed but hands and fingers gently entwined. She stared curiously at her sleeping companion’s long fingers, calloused from the strings of his violin. A gentle, deep sigh broke her gaze from their hands to the disfigured face of an awakening man. She watched his eyelids fluttering sleepily open, locking onto hers, his eyes widening with panic as he ripped his hands free from her grasp and began cowering away. “Hush, shhh, hush, stop, no Erik, stop, stop, please…” Christine frantically whispered and she reached out to him, grabbing his hands and used her grasp upon him to anchor herself closer. She gently placed her hand upon the misshapen deformities as Erik’s breath caught in his heaving chest. “Be still, my angel, be still,” Christine continued to whisper.

“I am no angel, Christine. Angels do not look like this. If anything at all, I am truly a demon from hell.”

“No, Erik, that’s not true. Beauty is underneath. People like Kevin are truly the ones birthed from hell, not you. I’ve seen and experienced this at the hands of the beautifully evil. To me, you are simply beautiful.” She shifted her lips closer to Erik still sensing his reluctance. Her eyes remaining open, she moved to kiss him, refusing to lose his gaze as if to reassure both Erik and herself about her actions. Her lips met his, as they watched each other closely. Erik slightly opened his mouth to speak but Christine took that moment as a chance to explore him. The soft glide from the tip of her tongue found its way to Erik, open-mouthed kisses in a beautiful duet as their tongues lightly danced. Erik fought for self-control, feeling an urgent rise of desire and temptation knot his insides; his hands tingling with life as long fingers ghosted the length of Christine’s exposed neck. “You’re beautiful,” Christine whispered as their lips parted and Erik again felt Christine’s small fingers lightly caressing and holding his deformities in her hands.

The smell of coffee wafted its way up the stairs and filled the bedroom. Christine smiled shyly as she propped herself up to glance at the clock. Erik couldn’t help but notice the subtle curves of her chest underneath her tank top and quickly looked away to hide his heated blush. “I suppose it’s time to make an appearance downstairs,” Christine said quietly as she moved off the bed and grabbed her cardigan and handed Erik his mask. Erik sat up, uncomfortably aware of his growing arousal. With a steadying breath and with careful readjustment, he walked towards the bedroom door as Christine grasped his hand and said with a smile, “Good morning.” Oh how perfectly warm her smile was, and to think she was smiling because of him. 

Erik and Christine were greeted in the kitchen by the reluctant smiles and acknowledgements from Meg and Raoul. Of course everything would need to be discussed, but it could wait. In her resolve to move on and start this odd beginning of a new chapter, Christine walked to Meg and Raoul and brought them into an embrace, hugging them both tightly. “Thank you, for everything; thank you for being there that night,” she said as she loosened her grip, only to be shrouded in Meg’s arms in an encompassing hug, whispering teary apologies.

“I’m sorry, Christine, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you, I know I should’ve. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It’s ok, you did what you thought was right. Your intentions and heart were in the right place.”

Erik and Raoul looked at Christine and Meg, realizing a mutual understanding. “I’m sorry, too, Erik,” Raoul said as the two men quickly hugged but were interrupted by the most obnoxious growl. “Babe, you and that stomach of yours need help,” Raoul chuckled and everyone laughed.

Breakfast was consumed in mostly silence outside on the screened-in porch, the storms from the previous night leaving crystal water drops on the grasses and leaves, a welcomed cool breeze light rustling the leaves and shaking off the raindrops. It wasn’t until Raoul and Erik began cleaning up when Meg looked at Christine suggestively. “So… what happened last night with you and Erik?”

Christine blushed. “We didn’t… I mean, nothing happened. I, um, we… kissed.”

“And that’s all?” Meg prodded further, then added carefully, “I’ve never, well, we’ve never seen him.”

“It’s not my place, Meg, and I won’t betray the vulnerability he blessed me with last night.”

“Oh no no, I would never… I wasn’t asking for details, Christine,” Meg quickly clarified. “And I would never ask you for details. He’ll tell us or show when and if he chooses to do so.”

Erik and Raoul reappeared onto the porch with Erik looking rather annoyed. “I just got a call from the rental truck place. They don’t have any trucks available even though I made the reservation weeks ago.”

Christine looked at Erik and offered, “Well, I have my truck. Can your stuff fit?” And four of them glanced over the bushes at Christine’s truck sitting in the driveway.

“It should; Erik’s the perpetual minimalist. It’s amazing you actually own a dining table,” Raoul chuckled.

“Then I guess it’s settled. You can use my truck,” Christine said and smiled at Erik. 

_ She’s too perfect and good. This can’t possibly be real _ . Within an hour, everyone was getting dressed and prepared to load up Erik’s belongings into Christine’s truck. Christine dressed and came out of her bedroom and noticed Erik’s door slightly cracked. Without meaning to peek in, her eyes caught sight of the tragically thin creature in the midst of taking off his shirt and she released a choked gasp and quickly brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. His back, oh God in heaven, what happened to his back? There were perfect round scars littering his back, they were a nauseating ashy grey color splattered across his back like a connect-the-dots game, with puffy, white welts and scars connecting the round scars together. Christine felt the contents of her breakfast rolling in her stomach threatening to spill out. A quiet whimper escaped her mouth as she huffed out a breath she didn’t realize was stuck in her chest and uneasily made her way down the stairs. 

Within an hour, all of Erik's stuff was loaded into Christine’s truck. Raoul was right: Erik was the perpetual minimalist. One oversized chair, a small dining side table and mismatched chair, a worn out old writer’s desk and chair, and boxes upon boxes upon boxes of sheet music. There was no bed frame, no mattress, no bedroom furniture.  _ Where does he sleep? Does he actually sleep? What about his family? Who are his parents? Wait, WHERE are his parents? Siblings? Grandparents? I don’t know anything about him… _ The panic started setting in, but they were completely valid questions. Who was this man, and how could she have permitted him to sleep beside her all night long?  _ Oh no, Nadir is going to kill me! What will he say? What am I going to tell him? _ All these questions raced through her mind as she glanced at her phone, hesitant to even send a text to Nadir. How could she even start the conversation? At some point, she would need to ask these questions to Erik himself, but the biggest one remained: would Erik tell her everything, or anything at all?

“Erik can ride with Christine, we’ll follow behind,” Raoul’s voice sounded as the truck’s tailgate slammed shut, breaking Christine from the fog of questions she had been starting to ask herself all morning. Erik glanced up at Christine and offered a shy smile as the two got into the truck. 

As Christine turned the key in the ignition, the old pick up truck choked to life and an embarrassed chuckle escaped Christine’s throat. “Can’t quite bear to depart with this Frankenbeast. This is my dad’s truck…”

“Understandable. And I like the name Frankenbeast… seems fitting for your passenger,” Erik glanced in the side-view mirror through the passenger window, but felt Christine’s fingers gently brush over his hand resting on the seat.

“Erik, please don’t say those things. I think you’re… I mean, I fell in lo-...” Christine abruptly stopped.  _ You don’t know him; you can’t possibly be in love with him. You felt this way with Kevin and look where it got you. Shut up, Christine - turn it off.  _ The pair fell into silence as the truck backed out of the driveway, with Meg and Raoul following behind. “Probably a little late to ask, but where is your apartment? Where are we going?”

Erik chucked, “All things considered, it was the last thing on my mind last night for obvious reasons.” Christine blushed as her mind replayed their gentle kiss from the night before and then replaying the feeling of waking up beside him, staring, studying. “I’m renting a place off North Barnard street.”

Christine huffed out a chuckle, “Wait, did you say Barnard Street?” Erik nodded. “Don’t tell me it’s 186.”

“Yes, but how did…?”

“Perhaps another thing Raoul and Meg forgot to disclose? I live in the first floor apartment...” Christine asked, glancing at Erik who noticeably tensed. “It’s ok, I mean, it’s not like it was done on purpose. There was a lot happening yesterday.”

He only offered a clipped, “Perhaps.” The rest of the way was in silence.  _ What are we doing? _

The long, tree-lined street greeted them as they turned at the stop sign. The late morning sunlight filtered and danced through the heavy, green-leafed branches, casting golden pots of sunlit gold. Christine pulled up alongside the curb, Meg and Raoul pulled up behind. Meg emerged from the passenger seat with a nervous laugh as she was approached by Erik, “Probably should’ve mentioned this a little sooner… sorry.” Erik mumbled something under his breath as he opened the truck bed door.

It only took a little over two hours to unload all of Erik’s belongings and get his things situated in the apartment. An awkwardness descended into Erik’s apartment as Christine stood to the side as Meg and Raoul said their departing goodbyes and headed back out to their car. The awkwardness turned into a sad reality that these two were indeed complete strangers. Erik made to speak, but Christine’s phone chimed obnoxiously As Erik turned away to put whatever dishware he owned into a cabinet, Christine turned to the window and pulled out her phone. Nadir.

_ Hey kid, I hope your night with your friends was fun. Was thinking about coming out your way if you wanted to grab dinner. Thoughts? _

_ The evening was a lot of fun.  _ Well that was a dramatic understatement.  _ I just got home a little bit ago. _ She paused. What was she going to say? A nauseating idea popped into her head. Would both of them be upset?  _ Dinner sounds great. I have ground beef in the fridge so why don’t I make lasagna? _

_ Lasagna - what’s the occasion? You usually don’t make that unless it’s either Christmas or you have some big news _ . Crap, he was right. What was she going to say? Stretch the truth a little bit now, and come clean later?

_ No reason, just don’t want the ground beef to go to waste. Does 6:30 work? _

_ See you then kid. I’ll bring dessert. Love you. _

_ Love you too. See you tonight. _

And now the plan went into motion. “So,” Christine said quietly, “um, do you have any plans for dinner tonight?” She walked slowly towards the kitchen where Erik stood with his back turned from her. His body held in a strange pose, some kind of odd energy pulsating from him. “I have ground beef in the fridge and was thinking of making some lasagna. If I eat alone, I’ll be eating leftovers for a week.” No response. “I mean, it’s ok if you don’t want to. I know you have a lot to focus on, and you just moved in and you probably want some time alone. And with everything from last night I understand if you want space to think things through.” The words coming out in a panicked frenzy. Why wasn’t he acknowledging anything she was saying. Awkwardness turned from sadness to anxiety to crushing regret. Was everything that happened last night nothing but a mistake? Did he regret staying with her last night? Was she too forward? “Um, ok, I understand. I guess we’ll see each other later…?” She quickly turned and headed out the door. Before she was even halfway down the steps, Erik’s long stride echoed behind her. “Christine, wait.” She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to go home and lock the door behind her. Her hands were shaking and her heart achingly throbbed in her chest. She reached her door, fidgeted with her keys and somehow managed to unlock the door. Before she could close it behind her, she saw Erik standing before her under the threshold. “Christine, wait…” his voice quiet with defeat. Christine opened the door wider, staring at the ground.

Erik stood there, awkward as ever, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never been in a situation like this before, let alone ever having a woman INVITE him to have dinner.  _ That’s not true… Liliana _ . He looked at Christine crumbling inward before him, and that’s when he saw a glistening tear streak down her face. She was trembling, her breathing ragged and unsteady. He slowly brought his hand to her face and gently thumbed the tears from her cheek. “I’m sorry. Christine, I just… I’m sorry. I don’t know…” he whispered. Without thought, he brought his forehead to hers every so gently. “I’m not good at this. I’ve never,” his voice trailed off as he felt Christine’s arms wrap around his waist.  _ Dinner. Accept the dinner invitation, Erik. _ “Dinner would be great. What time?”

Christine whispered into his chest, “6:15?” Erik’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the sincerest, hopeful look cross over Christine’s face as she glanced up at him. He cautiously brought his face down closer to hers and placed the lightest kiss on her cheek. “See you in a few hours then. And thank you for the invitation.” And the two parted ways.

By the time 5:45PM came around, Christine was a ball of nerves. She had set up a plan for Erik and Nadir to come face to face, to finally meet, and it was a plan she had begun to slowly regret as the afternoon quickly ticked by. In less than an hour the two men in her life would come together, and only God knew what would happen. With unsteady hands Christine assembled the lasagna and stuck it in the oven and set the timer. Perhaps a hot shower would calm her nerves.

Upstairs Erik paced like a caged tiger. Is this a date? What was he supposed to wear? Shouldn’t he have offered to bring garlic bread? Or a salad? Dessert? What was to happen after dinner’s over? Another repeat of last night? He glanced at his unpacked suitcase and eyed his clothing - everything was either black, dark charcoal, or navy. He settled on a pair of dark charcoal trousers and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt and folded up the sleeves exposing only a small glimpse of his wrists. Black socks to match his perfectly polished dress shoes. His slender frame paused briefly as he passed the bathroom and glanced at the mirror, adjusting his mask accordingly.  _ You look ridiculous.  _ On the contrary, he cut a dashing figure. He found his newsboy hat on the kitchen counter and tucked parts of his wig under it, attempting to have some resemblance of a whole, normal man. He had only 30 minutes before he was to meet Christine for dinner, nerves coursed through his veins when he heard it… the longing echo of her voice.

Christine certainly felt a little relief after her shower, and as she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, she had only 20 more minutes until Erik was to arrive at her front door. With the windows open in her bedroom, music tickled at Christine’s throat and she began to sing. Her voice bounced off the brick walls from the neighboring townhouse and echoed right into Erik’s room. For Erik it felt like old times of him and Christine listening and singing to each other in their adjoining practice rooms. His nerves immediately calmed as Christine’s voice charmed him into submission. 

Erik felt a renewed confidence as he walked down the stairs and knocked on Christine’s apartment door. It was no surprise that as soon as Christine appeared, she took Erik’s breath away. The intoxicating scents of lavender filled Erik, reminiscing of the lingering scents of her within their corridor of the music building. Tonight she wore a simple navy blue skirt pattern with daisy flowers, accompanied with a subtly fitted white v-neck shirt; her hair gently pulled back into a loose bun. Erik’s heart raced at the sight of her before him as she said a quiet greeting. “You look incredible,” she smiled and Erik flushed. Christine welcomed Erik into her apartment and he immediately felt at home. Anywhere with her would be home. He looked around and immediately went straight for the piano resting next to the fireplace. “May I?” Erik inquired. 

“I would welcome your music and your voice anytime, Erik,” Christine responded honestly and went into the kitchen to check on the lasagna.

Erik sat at the piano and immediately began playing a melody Christine had never heard before. She found herself somehow singing along with a smile on her face.

Nadir pulled up into a vacant spot a little ways past Christine’s apartment. “Parking’s always a premium in college towns,” he mumbled to himself as he barely squeezed into a spot. It was a beautiful evening, a slight breeze rustled through the leaves. As Nadir approached the apartment, the sweetest of sounds echoed from the apartment. It had been so long since he heard Christine sing, almost two years. And the piano she was singing along to… what was that song? An elation of happiness filled Nadir whenever he heard Christine sing; but there was something different about right now. Her voice sounded happy, alive, and, for the first time before Gustav’s death, hopeful. Nadir smiled, so very much looking forward to sitting down with his beloved goddaughter and finding out what was the inspiration bringing her voice back to life.

The knock on the door startled Erik as his fingers fumbled and jumped off the piano keys. “Are you expecting someone, Christine?” Erik asked as Christine opened the door.

Erik watched as a pair of old arms wrapped around Christine. “Hey kiddo, good to see you. Dang that lasagna smells ama-...” Nadir’s voice trailed off as his eyes locked onto Erik.  _ It can’t possibly be… _

Christine backed slowly out of Nadir’s embrace, her eyes moved frantically between Nadir and Erik. “I, uh, I know… I don’t, um, ok…” her breathing heavy, unsteady, panicked.  _ Ok, ok, just do this. You can do this. You planned this… shit, what should I say? Um, ok, think Christine, think… think. _ “Uncle Nadir,” she said with a steadying deep breath, “I’d like for you to meet Erik Destler. Erik, this is my godfather, Nadir Khan.” 

Erik stood as rigid as a Roman column, unrelenting, unwilling to move or even breathe. He couldn’t breathe; it was almost like he forgot how. Dark spots began to dot his vision as he quickly realized he held his breath to the point of fainting. This felt like an ambush.  _ Why didn’t she tell me? I could’ve been more prepared for this! This isn’t fair. Oh God, my mask…. Did I forget to put on my mask? _ His hands quickly shot up to his face to feel the rigid lines of the mask upon his face. He watched as Christine came immediately to his side, gently taking his hand in hers as she led him over to Nadir. “Erik, it’s a pleasure to meet you, formally, finally… after all this time.” A wrinkled hand extended forward as Erik startled at the sound of this older man’s voice of cordial greeting. 

“S-sir, Mr. Khan, sir, um, sir, it’s… it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Khan, sir.”

The timer on the oven blasted obnoxiously, startling the three, with Erik noticeably shaken. “At ease, soldier,” Nadir chuckled lightly. “And it’s Nadir. None of this Mr. Khan or sir stuff.” Erik watched as Nadir’s old hand reached up and patted him on the back. “That lasagna smells fantastic and I’m starving. Let’s eat!” Blinking in confusion, Erik sunk into a chair at the dining room table, stunned, speechless.  _ Was this planned? Why didn’t she tell me? Did Mr. Khan know I’d be here? _

With lasagna dished out and drinks poured, the three sat down to enjoy their dinner. “Grace?” Christine suggested as she offered her open hands to Nadir and Erik. She smiled as she felt Erik’s fingers wrap around her hand and Nadir eyed the pair cautiously. “Heavenly Father, I thank you for this time to bring family and friends together. I pray we enjoy this meal together. Amen.” The meal began in silence as Erik cautiously took small bites of the lasagna and only small talk existed between the three. However, as the main course began to come to a close and dessert was soon next, Christine realized the conversation needed to change. “So,” she said, “I’m sure you’re both wondering what’s going on.”

“I had a feeling something was up,” Nadir confessed. “Erik, there’s something you need to know about Christine - she uses her lasagna as either bribery or as a gateway to heavier conversations. But, I fell for her invitation because, well, I just love lasagna and anything I can do to help with this old man belly of mine is always welcomed!”

Christine laughed. “You know I don’t appreciate the accusation. How dare you question my ulterior motives. And for the record, I’m never above using my lasagna as bribery for anything.”

Erik watched in awe. These two were the epitome of family. Any exposure he had was the Girys and the de Chagnys, but it was different family dynamics. With these two it seemed more of a devoted friendship, of guardianship with a tinge of a shared sadness. Perhaps from Gustav’s death? Perhaps more of everything that had happened in the past few years? Regardless of the circumstances, Erik began feeling a different level of “home.” With these two, he felt like part of their most intimate circle of family. And there was something about Nadir - he was proper and formal on the outside, but once the barriers eased, he was warm and welcoming and assumed the role of adoptive father. Erik felt a content smile grace his face that he felt so welcome.

Dinner plates cleared and dessert served, the conversation moved from the dining table to the living room as the sun began to set and cast hues of purples and oranges throughout the apartment. “So, Erik, tell me more about your doctoral program?” Nadir asked. Now this was a topic Erik could easily spend a lifetime discussing.

“While I was on my fellowship with the New York City Chamber Orchestra, I was also composing. The program was originally supposed to be one symphony but unfortunately the new dean of the College of Music has changed my requirements. Three vocal pieces need to be composed and performed then the symphony. The performance will be next May. Everything for the symphony is composed except the last final movement. The vocal pieces, however, are proving more challenging.”

“Sounds like a lot of work, Erik. Do you have any ideas for the vocal pieces” Nadir inquired. Christine sat entranced, listening and witnessing Erik come alive. Music gave him life, music was his life. He WAS the music and all she wanted was to part of it. Erik looked at Christine and answered, “I have ideas for one of the vocal pieces, and with all due honesty, the inspiration for it was because of her voice… I’m writing it for Christine.” Christine sat stunned.

“Well, flattery will get you everywhere, Erik,” Nadir chuckled. “So, what about your parents? I bet they’re very proud of your accomplishments.”

At this Erik immediately tensed and crumbled. “No parents, and I prefer not to discuss this topic further, sir.” Nadir made to apologize but Erik quickly interceded with a darkened tone, “Sir, do not ask of them again.”

Christine offered quietly to help clear the air, “I’m sorry to you both for not being fully transparent of the invitation for tonight. Uncle Nadir, I need to confess that once you gave me all the files from the accident and the trial, I wanted to let you know that the Meg I’ve just met and became friends with, is Meg Giry. And her fiance, Raoul de Chagny. And last night, we cleared the air and it was a very long night. But I also, most importantly, wanted to bring you two together, to meet, to connect… it’s just, everything hit me so hard the past few days and I just needed something stable. I just needed this to happen.” Dessert resumed as the conversation again turned lighthearted. Soon night fell in the growing-sleepy town of Western Cypress, and soon Nadir realized it was time to head home. 

“Thanks for dinner, kiddo. Delicious as always. Love you, Chrissie. Give this old geezer a hug.”

“I love you, too. And thank you for coming by,” Christine replied, and added in a whisper, “And thank you for welcoming him.”

Nadir ushered Christine to the side and quietly added, “Always, sweetie, and you know that. Go slowly, get to know him. A lot has changed…”

“I know. He’s different, and he’s… so incredibly special.”

Nadir placed a kiss on Christine’s cheek and said goodnight. “Erik, up to walk this old man to his car for a quick chat?” Christine eye rolled Nadir. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t rough him up too much.”

“Yes, sir, yes of course.”

Christine eyed Nadir skeptically as the two men in her life walked out into the summer night. She quickly turned to occupy herself and her ind with cleaning up from dinner and dessert.

The two gentlemen walked slowly down the brick sidewalk in silence. “You know, Erik,” Nadir quietly began as he pulled out an old pipe and lit the tobacco, “Chrissie hates it that I smoke this old thing, but…” a white puff of smoke billowed from the small piece, “just can’t seem to quit. One of my vices, I suppose.”

“Yes, sir.” Silenced reigned as they continued side-by-side down the sidewalk. The crickets began chirping loudly and a harsher breeze blew through the trees. Thin clouds broke away allowing the twinkling stars to litter the night sky.

“Was this all a surprise for you yesterday and last night, Erik?” The question seemed to catch Erik off guard.

“Indeed it was, sir.” Erik stopped. “Mr. Khan?” Nadir stopped as well and turned to Erik inquisitively. “I… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Mr. Khan. I promised myself to protect her the first time we encountered each other, but… I failed her that night, Mr. Khan. And, sir, I failed you, too.”

Nadir puffed out another cloud of white smoke from his pipe and sighed. “Listen, dear boy, you did absolutely nothing wrong. You did not fail me; and most importantly, what you need to realize is that you did NOT fail Christine. If anything, I failed her,” and adding rather defeatedly, “and worst off? I failed her father. Gustav was more than my friend, he was like a brother. I’ve been in that young woman’s life since the day she was born. I swore on Gustav’s deathbed that I’d protect her, and all this mess with Kevin is just the biggest failing of my life.” Nadir grew quiet, almost remorseful as his eyes slid close in regret. “But, you need to know this, Erik: Christine has never felt you were to blame. And I never felt you were to blame. The blame is on that scumbag and on him alone.”

The two resumed walking and finally came up to Nadir’s car. “Mr. Khan, sir, if I may ask your permission, sir, and I realize this is truly the first we’ve spoken and formally met, but may I have your permission to court Christine?”

Nadir chuckled at Erik’s innocent sincerity and formality. “Erik, you don’t need my permission but I sincerely appreciate you asking. Have you ever done this before? Dated, I mean? Of course it’s none of my business; Lord knows I haven’t in eons for that matter.”

“No, sir, never. I’ve never really received so much as an acknowledgement. I had all but given up any hopes until last night when she kiss-...” Erik immediately cut off his sentence and swallowed the hard knot in his throat. He started to stutter, “Sir, Mr. Khan, I’m sorry, please accept my apologies, I meant no disrespect, sir. Please forgive me.”

Nadir wanted to chuckle at the absurdity of the whole situation, the awkwardness of this most dignified young man before him.  _ Lord this is a stand-up routine for David Letterman _ . Nadir started laughing, “Erik, please, I told you before, you can call me Nadir. None of the Mr. Khan and sir business. And for crying out loud, stop apologizing.” An awkward pause. “Anyway, it was really nice to finally meet you face to face, especially after so long. And, for the first time since that night,” Nadir felt the sting of tears, “thank you, Erik, for saving my girl’s life. If you weren’t there that night, she wouldn’t have… she might have…” and his voice grew quiet as he cleared the knot in his throat.

“Mr. Kh-, Nadir, she saved mine long before that. The honor and pleasure of this evening has been mine. Thank you, sir.” And with a firm handshake, the two men parted ways.

The short walk back to the apartment felt lighter. Erik started up the front steps from the sidewalk and found Christine sitting on the front porch, her guitar nestled in her lap as she strummed the strings and quietly vocalized to Autumn Leaves. He paused and leaned against one of the porch posts and simply watched and listened. She was everything he imagined her to be and more. “Sing with me,” she smiled up at him. Erik moved to sit next to her on the wicker seat and sang with her.

Nadir was slowly driving down the street with his windows down. And as he drove by Christine’s apartment, he finally heard it. The sweetest of sounds his ears had ever heard outside of just Christine’s solo voice. Their spirits and their voices in one combined to create an intoxicatingly beautiful lullaby. His smile grew larger as he heard the song Gustav sang to propose to Marie so many decades ago.

An hour later found Erik and Christine alone together in her living room, sitting together on the couch drinking hot tea. “It’s getting late, Christine, I should go and let you rest.”

“If we must,” she offered, “but I do have one request.”

“Anything.”

“A kiss.” Christine inched closer toward Erik, her breathing quickened as she felt his arms come around her, feeling his fingers ever so gently touch her face. Leaning down to her, Erik’s lips met hers in a gentle earnestness. Their kiss was soft and innocent and lasted only a few seconds. “One last request,” she whispered as they drew apart and watched Erik smile. “Another kiss without the mask.” She brought her hands to Erik’s face, lightly tracing all the contours of the white mask. Erik’s breath hitched in his chest at her request.

“Oh Christine, you had your fill of this grotesque monstrosity last night and yet again this morning. How can you possibly want…?” 

And before he could finish, Christine gently removed the mask from his face and again, like the night before, she held his face in her small, soft hands. Moving her lips closer to his, she whispered, “Erik, all or nothing at all.” Erik wasn’t sure what it was about the way she whispered his name in the night or the way her lips mouthed the words she spoke, or if it was the adoration he held for her in every single way, or the way she treated him as if he  _ deserved _ to be a whole man. He lost control and dove for her lips, claimed them with such a ferocious passion of one tasting the sweet innocence of an angel from heaven. Erik felt Christine’s knees inching closer and closer, her hands grasped the open collar of his shirt. God knows Erik wanted her in the desperate way she wanted him. When they finally broke away from each other, they were breathless.

“I should let you go before I change my mind,” Christine admitted as they both nervously laughed.

“It’s for the best. Thank you, Christine, for dinner and for introducing me and permitting me to finally meet your godfather. I hope you know how much he loves you.” He placed a kiss on her hands before he opened the door to head upstairs. “Good night, Christine.”

“Erik?” He stopped halfway up the steps and looked at Christine. “You don’t have to leave. Stay… please?”

“Oh Christine, tonight you have inspired me, and tomorrow I will show you what you have inspired me to create. Meet me at the music building tomorrow morning at 10:00AM in room 217.”

Christine smiled, “I’ll be there. Good night, Erik.” And she closed the door. 

Erik went up to his apartment and sat in front of his computer, surrounded by blank staff-lined paper and his favorite pen and began to compose. The sound of Christine’s voice forever ingrained in his memory as he wrote  _ her _ song.

Tomorrow he would present her with the most intimate of gifts… the gift of  _ his music for her _ .


	20. Inspiration Has A Name

**Chapter 20: Inspiration Has A Name**

_ Good morning, sunshine! You around this morning? _

Christine blinked sleepily at her phone and chuckled, “Oh Meg.”  _ Morning, yeah, I’m around but have something at 10. What’s up? _

_ I have a surprise for you. Can I drop it off in 30 mins? _

_ Sure, see you soon. Door will be open, just come in. _

As Christine grabbed her mug of hot tea and sat on the couch, the evidence from the night before remained on the coffee table: Erik’s newsboy cap. She picked it up and held it to her face. It smelled like him, the freshness of ivory soap and the subtleness of earl gray tea. She smiled but the same thought kept bubbling inside:  _ you still don’t know anything about him _ . She glanced out the living room to see Meg walking up the steps and waved.

“Hey Chris!”

“You are way too bubbly in the morning, you know that?”

Meg chuckled, “So I’ve been told. Got any more of that tea?” Christine pointed to the tea kettle already holding hot water. Meg poured herself a mug and sat next to Christine, eyeing the article of clothing. “Uh, I’m not interrupting anything am I?” she mischievously asked.

“It’s too early for innuendos, Meg. But no, you’re not interrupting anything. Erik came for dinner last night. And,” she dropped off, “I invited my godfather, Nadir, over last night too.”

Meg choked on her tea. “Well I’ll be damned. How’d it go? Was Erik ok?”

Christine let out a gentle sigh. “Yeah, it was fine, but I’m such an ass about how I did it. I blindsided them both. He’s just so hard to read… one minute he’s gentle and passionate and it’s almost overwhelming and the next thing is he’s shutting down and closed off and unresponsive.” Christine grew contemplative and increasingly more somber. “I don’t know anything about him,” she said. “And in fact, I don't really know anyone . We’re all complete strangers.” They fell into a weighted silence. “I’m not any better than what Kevin did to me.”

“Whoa, ok, you just hold on a hot second. Most importantly, Christine, is that you are NOWHERE close to being Kevin. We saw what he did to you; he’s evil and conniving and calculated. You are none of those things, and I can tell you right now, Erik would tell you the exact same thing I’m saying to you.” Meg watched as Christine’s chin started to tremble. Her eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill. “And secondly, this is such weird and uncharted territory for not just Erik but for you as well. I love the guy to death and you’ll come to understand in time how to read him. Raoul and I still struggle with him sometimes, mostly because he’s so very stubborn, but…” Meg dropped off quietly, clearly debating on how much to divulge. “Erik has overcome more horror than anyone can imagine. He was born disfigured. I don’t know anything about his dad but his mom was an abusive alcoholic and drug addict. She beat him relentlessly. From the little he’s told us, he ran away at the age of 14 and was homeless for a long time. He somehow got some janitorial jobs and worked at Barnes and Noble and Borders just cleaning. I’ll let him tell you the rest when he’s ready, but one night he met Drs. Marrenesco and Reyer at some off-the-cuff open mic night at the coffee shop in one of the bookstores. Erik got up and played something on the guitar and both professors were astounded. They just kept saying something like ‘He becomes the music.’ I’m still not quite sure how it all happened, but Erik will need to tell you about his past so you can understand where he’s coming from and how you can move forward together.” 

“Well now I feel even worse,” Christine admitted.

“That wasn’t my intention, and you shouldn’t let this get in the way of anything. Neither Erik nor you can unpack your lives to each other in just a few days. Just be patient and take your time. Both of you have been through more than Raoul and I can imagine.”

The girls fell into an understanding silence when Christine finally asked, “So what’s the surprise?”

Meg grinned and opened up the backpack. “You’ve made a lot of progress since you started strength training with me, Sorelli, and Jammes a few months ago, so I wanted to make it official.” She pulled out proper ballet gear: leotards, tights, and ballet slippers. “You’re so tiny but I’m pretty sure all this will fit you perfectly.”

Christine stared back in surprise. “Please don’t tell me those are pointe slippers, Meg.”

“HA! No, I wouldn’t do that to you. You’ve improved and gotten a lot better but you’re nowhere near ready for en pointe… YET. I’m not done with you, Christine Daae. I think with more strength training and some massage therapy, you might be a force to be reckoned with. So, what are your plans today?”

“I’m supposed to meet Erik in the music building at 10AM but other than that, not much.”

Meg winked and sighed, “Oh young love, how I love thy music. I reserved one of the rehearsal rooms in the basement of the music building at noon. Come downstairs when you’re finished doing whatever you’re doing with Erik.” Meg giggled teasingly as she felt Christine smack her arm.

“Get outta here, you have errands to run,” Christine chided. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

With nothing much better to do to fill the next hour before meeting Erik, Christine decided to head to the music building early, perhaps to walk the empty halls and visit the corridor that started this entire journey. She decided to take the stairs up to the second floor and was immediately struck with an all too familiar sound.  _ Erik _ . His music rang and echoed and lived within the empty hallways, his voice wrapping itself around her entire being. The song wasn’t anything she had ever heard before and the words dug into her soul as she felt anchored to Erik than ever before:

_ Still I ache down to the core  
_ _ My broken soul  
_ _ Can't be alive and whole  
_ _ 'Til I hear you sing once more _

“Very strong start, Erik,” another man’s voice chimed in. “It’s very strong and the bridge works well here. You’ve managed, yet again, to turn an F Major piece into something deep and dark yet warm. I will be interested to see how you end this.”

“Thank you, Nikolai. Much still needs to be completed and written, but it’ll work with the next piece.”

“Speaking of which, are you ready to share parts of that now?” Nikolai asked.

“I would prefer to wait for the arrival of the singer, but I can provide a quick intro bridge if that would suffice?” The tickling of a sweet and innocent opening urged Christine’s feet forward to follow the music. It was as if her feet were lightly skipping upon the eighth notes littering the tile floors as she felt inspired, uplifted, and yearned for nothing more than to sing. She could see Erik’s long, nimble fingers dancing upon the keys, could actually feel the music he had embodied. She came to stand at the open door as the melody echoed triumphantly in an upper register meant for a pure crystalline soprano voice, a melody meant to be sung by the angels themselves. The piece came to a close and a contented sigh escaped from Erik. 

“You never cease to amaze, Erik. I assume lyrics have been written already?”

“Indeed, just last night,” Erik replied. Erik gently massaged his fingers and hands, preparing them for more triumphant composing.

“Out of pure curiosity, Erik, whose voice did you have in mind for this piece? It will be difficult for an undergrad student to sing this so I assume you have someone already in mind.” Christine quietly entered the room and stopped dead when Erik spoke her name. “I wrote it for Christine, and for Christine’s voice only.”

“What?” she blurted out rather abruptly.

“Ahh, Miss Daae! So good to see you again!” Nikolai responded. “How are you?”

“Hello again, Dr. Marrenesco. Good to see you as well. If anything I’m more confused above all else. Erik, you wrote that… for me?” Without a word, Erik offered up as an homage to Christine and to his craft, the most pristinely, beautifully handwritten piece of lyrical poetry. Her eyes followed the black notes ascending the staff lines, jumps in octaves, the annunciations of the words falling in difficult syncopations, the upper register meant for the golden voice of a soprano. “Erik, I can’t… you know I can’t sing this. I’m an alto, there’s no possible way I can sing this. I don’t understand.”

“Nikolai, please excuse us,” Erik dismissed his mentor and watched as the door closed behind. “Christine, you can sing this. You will sing this. You must sing this. Do you trust me with your voice?”

Christine blinked rather confusedly at Erik. His question: do you trust me with your voice? She didn’t understand. It was such an odd request. But then she remembered something Meg said just that morning: He becomes the music. It’s usually “you can trust me with your heart” or “you can trust my love for you.” But more painfully deceptive were Kevin’s words uttered to Christine the night she gifted to him her innocence: “Trust me, you can trust me. I will never hurt you. You’re safe with me.” But this, this request, not a demand, not a statement, but an intimate request for permission to take something purely innocent and entrust an instrument to him was of the highest form of trust. Christine studied Erik’s expression closely, studied him ever so carefully as he held his breath hard in his chest. 

Erik studied Christine in return, watching her eyes follow the path of his genius, flowing like a beautifully chaotic river of artistry, strong and yet entwined with loving gentleness. He poured the most intimate parts of himself into this piece shortly departing from Christine, after meeting the most important man in her life, after witnessing a part of her that he’d never seen. He watched her carefully, holding his breath tight within his chest, and then... THERE. There was the look glistening in her eyes. He knew she felt it. He knew that her heart had decided. “For you, I will not fail you, Erik. I don’t want to disappoint,” Christine said so innocently. Erik felt a rush of pride and accomplishment with her acceptance. 

“You won’t disappoint me, quite the opposite: you will inspire,” Erik replied with a huge smile. “Shall we begin?”

“Um, shouldn’t I warm up? I haven’t done any operatic work for years, Erik, my voice isn’t what it used to be.”

“Three scales following with chords, consonant ‘la’ to open your throat and relax the muscles,” Erik responded, taking on the role of teacher and mentor. “C Major scale please.” And their impromptu lesson and warm up began. She struggled with the upper register and barely managed to not flounder. “Again, Christine. Breathe and relax your throat, neck and shoulders. Your muscle tension is constricting your throat. Again.” This was a lot more challenging than Erik imagined it to be. He expected perfection, he knew she could do more with her voice. Perhaps it really had been too long since she last used it properly. “I just want to hear the beginning parts of my piece. Four measure introduction then in on one.” 

_ I'm trying to hold my breath  
_ _ Let it stay this way  
_ _ Can't let this moment end  
_ _ You set off a dream in me  
_ _ Getting louder now  
_ _ Can you hear it echoing?  
_ _ Take my hand  
_ _ Will you share this with me?  
_ _ 'Cause darling without you _

She sounded divine. And Erik lost himself in the music oozing from his entire body. His eyes slid closed as he let Christine’s voice carry him away, his hands and fingers shaking with an unknown feeling coursing rapidly through his blood. The life of his creativity and his soul bled through his fingers onto the piano keys, picking up tempo and intensity; he didn’t notice Christine struggling to keep up, her voice fading as she tried to reach. 

_ All the shine of a thousand spotlights  
_ _ All the stars we steal from the night sky  
_ _ Will never be enough  
_ _ Never be enough  
_ _ Towers of gold are still too little  
_ _ These hands could hold the world but it'll  
_ _ Never be enough  
_ _ Never be enough _

Her voice cracked immediately drawing Erik from another realm, his eyes snapped open and stared intently at Christine. She felt unnervingly guilty for not being able to do more. The look in Erik’s eyes nearly brought her to tears. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I told you this wasn’t my range. I’m an alto, I can’t sing soprano. I’m so sorry, Erik, I’m sorry,” Christine pleaded with him.

Erik stood from the piano and was immediately next to her, taking her small hands into his trembling ones. “No, no, please, I am the one who should be sorry. It was too much too fast; you just need more practice and voice conditioning. You’ll get there, and I’ll take you there all the way.” Again he asked the most intimate of questions, “Do you trust me with your voice?” 

“I do.” Erik brought her hands to his lips as he placed a reverent soft kiss upon her fingers. Her heart fluttered as Erik’s eyes met hers, his gazed intense. Erik felt he could die forever happy with the return of her stare.

“We begin officially on Monday. I will make a copy of this piece for you, play it on your piano and begin practicing your scales.” Christine watched as Erik reclaimed his spot in front of the piano. “And I’ll know if you’re not practicing since I live upstairs.” He winked.

Christine smiled brightly and looked at the wall clock. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “I have to get going. I’m meeting up with Meg downstairs for some ballet.”

“May I see you this evening, Christine?”

“Of course you can. Tea and music around seven?”

“Until then,” Erik quietly responded and placed a gentle kiss upon Christine’s cheek.

* * *

And the rest of the summer continued in this way: Christine and Erik would meet every morning at 10:00AM for voice lessons while a skeptical Nikolai monitored the forced progress. Every evening found Christine and Erik attached at the hip, sometimes never needing to exchange any words, which some observers wondered if either of their pasts would ever be spoken of. Company was kept with either Meg and Raoul almost every weekend, as Meg recruited Christine to be the designated friend to vent about wedding plans for next year, or with Nadir.

Through the weeks, Erik and Nadir had grown closer as well. Erik sensed something very paternal about this man, and the relationship began running deeper. Erik felt welcomed into the Khan-Daae family circle. After observing and understanding the dynamic between Christine and Nadir, Erik knew the bond between them would never break. And whenever Erik observed Christine for some unknown reasons to start backing away, sometimes abruptly, from the intensity of her relationship with Erik, Erik would respectively ease up and suggest she spend time with Nadir. There were some weekends where Christine and Nadir would seem to disappear, but come Sunday afternoon upon returning to her apartment, Christine seemed renewed and refreshed. Christine would not open up about those weekends she would spend with Nadir, and Erik felt it was not something he could never pry into further for information.

Even more momentus came the July 4th holiday celebrations when Meg and Raoul hosted a party at their house with both sets of parents, Erik, Christine, and Nadir. This was the first time that Nadir had formally met Meg and Raoul. Tears were shared as well as welcoming embraces of love and thankfulness. Nadir and Raoul Sr. immediately bonded over their shared service during the Vietnam War. Christine hadn’t felt this deep connection of a full family unit until the Girys, the de Chagnys, her and Nadir, and perhaps more importantly Erik, had these individual misfits come together as a perfectly fit family. Erik felt it too; and with Christine at his side, he knew life couldn’t possibly be any sweeter.

But what Erik and Christine found during their intimate, tender moments of late summer evenings was by far the sweetest of all. Their mornings were occupied with music and voice lessons. The afternoons and early evenings were spent apart as Erik holed himself up in Swope Music Hall with Dr. Marrenesco composing, playing, and debating. But the evenings, oh those late summer evenings, cured frustrations and cured the longing aches of want and desire. Almost every evening like clockwork, Erik would be walking up the familiar sidewalk to the apartment and the sweet sounds of Christine’s voice married with the guitar would welcome him on the front porch. It was always 7:30PM when he would return, and whatever frustrations of the day either of them had encountered would simply melt away when their eyes would meet. Christine would welcome Erik with a smile, offer to heat up some leftovers for his dinner, and the pair would piddle around on guitar or piano with songs and nonsense. These evenings always ended the same: light, soft kisses quickly descended into pools of desire, hungrily exploring each other, hands and fingers wanting to explore more until both would break away hesitantly and force themselves from crossing over the final threshold and not being able to turn back. Calming their desires would mean falling asleep together on Christine’s couch, and each evening would end with Erik carrying Christine into her room and, more times often than not, he would crawl in next to her. Laying with Christine was the only time Erik felt calm enough to permit himself to sleep.

* * *

Once the fall semester kicked off and went into full swing, Erik and Christine made valiant attempts to keep their routines going. The demands, however, for Christine’s graduate program were intense. She had opted for an information technology specialization for library sciences, but what she wasn’t completely prepared for was the workload. Because of the technical components for this program, her vocal strengthening exercises and practice practically halted. And this, obviously, Erik noticed immediately. 

He truly tried to understand: Christine had priorities and she had to meet her degree requirements. She was a technically skilled individual and she wasn’t a professionally or academically trained musician. He had to understand this, but everything for his final doctoral presentation and performance in May was riding on Christine being able to deliver her solo and their duet, which Erik hadn’t even broached with her.

By the time December rolled around and the end of semester break was just two short weeks away, Dr. Marrenesco knew it was time to try to talk sense into Erik. The conversation did not go well. It was later than usual for Erik one evening as he put the final touches on the anticipated duet he and Christine would sing in just five months. With adjusted schedules and demands for finals week, Christine and Erik had decided to meet during the evenings for practice and vocal exercises. However, on this particular evening, Christine was running 15 minutes early but stopped dead in her tracks as the raised, heated voices of Erik and Nikolai echoed down the hallway.

“Erik, you’ve been working with her on this piece for six months and yet she still struggles! You KNOW what is at stake here!” Nikolai was adamant this catastrophe would be the end of Erik’s chances of receiving his doctoral degree. “You underestimate Dean Piangi. You only see him as a buffoon, an absentminded oaf of a man. But let me warn you now, Erik, he is extremely difficult to please and unmistakably harsh with his critiques. If you can’t sell him on this and if Christine cannot deliver during the performance, you are finished. There will be no going back, there will not be any second chances with this. It’s one performance, ONE shot at doing this and doing it well. Do NOT be so blinded by your love for her into not seeing how horribly wrong this will end.” Heated tempers seethed in the room. His next suggestion would put years of mentorship and friendship into dangerous territory of ending forever. “You must concede: have La Carlotta sing…”

“Nikolai, PLEASE! Enough! Christine will sing this, and it will be pure magic. You need to trust me on this! I know what she’s capable of! I still have time!”

“Erik, listen to me! You do NOT have time to play teacher and mentor. Christine has hardly made progress, and she flounders in this upper register of the solo piece. The duet you’ve written reaches even higher; how can you possibly think she’ll get it together by then? You’ve put in too many years to get this far to blow it; there’s too much at stake. As your mentor and doctoral advisor AND your friend, you must consider all possible scenarios. Do NOT make me intercede and make the executive decision. I must have your final answer when we return after semester break in January. You have a month.”

Erik sighed heavily and he watched Nikolai storm out of the practice room. Nikolai rounded the corner, grumbling under his breath and plowed into Christine. She couldn’t bear to look at him as Nikolai fumbled over what sounded like words of apology. She felt defeated, that she was failing Erik and jeopardizing everything he had worked so hard for. If he failed, it would be because of her. She entered the practice room and watched Erik rubbing his hands as if fully taking in the weight of Nikolai’s words. Erik knew his mentor was right: his success was riding on an individual who quite possibly couldn’t deliver. “I’m sorry, Erik,” Christine said quietly as her voice cracked over the lump in her throat.

“No, I’m sorry, Christine. I’m sorry you heard that.” A heavy silence.

“Dr. Marrenesco is right, Erik. Carlotta will do the solo justice, she’s professionally trained. You can’t let your doctorate degree ride on my incompetence as a singer, and I think you know that.”

“No, Christine, no. Carlotta will never do the solo or the duet the way I have envisioned them for years. Without your voice, all these are, are words and notes on a page.”

“What duet? Wait, just… that needs to wait. The poetry you’ve written, the music you’ve composed, everything is perfect. And with Carlotta singing, you could be destined for so much more success.”

And there it was. Erik realized what was holding Christine back from letting the music infiltrate her body, her mind, and her soul. She was taking these lyrics for face value rather than really understanding what they truly meant. Perhaps it was the fear they both had in divulging their pasts to one another, the amount of pain and heartache they’ve had to live through, the challenges, the hurts, everything. Erik realized that to truly help Christine understand the music, he’d have to open up the wounds and break down the walls to his past, showing the scars that shaped him as a man. “Christine, may I have your permission to take you somewhere this weekend, Saturday night?” Erik asked shyly.

Christine felt confused at the sudden question but confirmed, “Yes, yes of course. Where are we going?”

Erik smiled shyly and said, “A place very special to me. A place where I first discovered the heavens, the first time I heard music in the stars, and where I first met Meg and Raoul. But it’s far, and we’ll need your truck.”

“Where are we going?”

“A magical place filled with wonder.”

“Disney World?” Christine chided.

“Wait, what? No!” Erik scowled, then laughed, finally realizing Christine’s joke. “You think you’re so funny…”

“Hilarious, I should host a talk show. But seriously, where are we going?”

“Carbon Valley Amateur Astronomical Society.”

“Amateur what?”

“CVAAS is a community run group of astronomy enthusiasts. Every other month, they host an open to the public star party for star gazing potluck. They decided to do a special Christmas-themed gathering this year. It’s a hike, I’m afraid, and it’ll take about three hours to get there. It’s exit 143 off the Northeast Highway Extension.”

“Wait, you said exit 143?” Christine asked wide-eyed.  _ That’s just two exits past the house in the woods _ . Erik nodded in confirmation while offering a quizzical look. “It’s just that… I grew up really close to that exit. My dad’s house, I mean, our house… the house I grew up in, the house in the woods, is off exit 140.” She paused for a minute, seriously considering if Frankenbeast would make the three plus hour drive. “The truck won’t make it; we’ll have to borrow Nadir’s car.”

* * *

By 10:00AM, Erik and Christine made their way to Philadelphia to grab lunch with Nadir at his apartment and exchange vehicles. “Well I hope you two have a great time this evening. Sounds like a romantic date,” Nadir teased at Erik. “And keep it under 90.”

Erik laughed and shook Nadir’s hand, “I will, sir. And thank you for lunch.” 

Christine gave Nadir a hug and thanked him again for letting them borrow his car. “I’ll call you when we’re about to leave. If we’re back at a decent hour, then we’ll exchange the cars tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Have a good time,” Nadir responded. As he released Christine, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve never seen you this happy, and he respects you so much more than Kevin did. Don’t be afraid to let him in, Christine. He’s not going anywhere.” Christine smiled as the three said their goodbyes.

The drive out of Philadelphia was long and traffic was a nightmare, but as soon as they reached the Northeast Extension Highway an hour after leaving Nadir’s, traffic opened up. The thing with Erik and Christine is that they could sit in a very comfortable silence for a long time - just the pleasure of each other’s company and the security of having a similar soul was always more than enough. 

By the time they exited the highway, Christine chuckled aloud. “What’s so funny?” Erik asked curiously.

“It’s just ironic… I know exactly where we are and I can’t remember the number of times my dad and I had driven past this place and I never knew it was back here. I like discovering new places,” she confessed. 

A few minutes later Erik steered the car down an unsaved road that wound its way through dense woods, a few scattered homes, and up the steep mountainside. The high beams lighting the way in the dark. One last sharp curve and they emerged to a small gravel parking lot with an unbelievable amount of cars. What was even more quirky were the amount of folks meandering about in a massive clearing wearing headlamps or carrying blue-tinted flashlights. Erik pulled into a makeshift spot under some pine trees and turned off the engine.

As soon as they exited and made their way towards a rather run down building with the entrance illuminated by a dimly lit lightbulb. “Uncle Erik!!!!” shrieked a tiny voice from from behind. “Uncle Erik is that really you?! Jacob! Daddy! It’s Erik!” Immediately Christine turned and watched a peppy young girl about 10 years old run up to Erik and jumped into his welcoming arms. “You’re here! You’re finally back!”

Erik laughed as Sarah practically knocked him over as he wrapped his long arms around the tiny body. “Hi Sarah, it’s so good to see you! Goodness you’ve grown so tall! Dave, what on earth around you feeding this kid?” Christine watched with an awkward and rather confused look at this interaction unfolding before her eyes. This interaction was so out of the norm for Erik’s behavior. He was always so closed off and so very reserved. But this… this was different and unique and so beautiful. Christine couldn’t help but smile bigger. 

“These kids eat everything. So good to see you, Erik. It’s been way too long,” said a y’all man walking towards them with a small boy following quickly behind. Erik and the man exchanged a handshake as Erik said, “Dave, I’d like for you to meet Christine. Christine, this is Dave Rucker, one of the members here at CVAAS and these two munchkins are Sarah and Jacob.”

“Hey we’re not munchkins anymore!” Jacob giggled as Erik reached down for a quick under the chin tickle. “We’re big kids now!”

“It’s really nice to meet all of you. This place, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Christine said. 

Shortly thereafter Christine and Erik we’re walking around eyeing different constellations through telescopes set up in the open field. Christine met all of Erik’s friends at the society and felt very welcome. Despite the winter air, the warmth Christine felt from these new acquaintances helped keep the bitter cold away. But what warmed her most was feeling Erik’s fingers interwoven with hers and knowing that Erik was sharing such an intimate part of his past with her, meeting people who met so much to him and actually seeing a part of him that he rarely showed to anyone else. 

As the night grew older and the winter winds kicked up, the crowd slowly started to pack up and head home. It was nearly midnight when Christine found herself alone with Dave. “Well Christine it was wonderful to meet you. I trust you had a good time tonight.”

“Likewise, Mr. Rucker. This place was every bit as magical as I thought it would be and more. And your children are so sweet. And I must admit, it’s been really interesting to see a part of Erik I haven’t seen before yet.”

Dave chuckled at this. “Well, to be honest, all of us here at CVAAS are awkwardly geeky and we kinda have a bond here because of it: we find acceptance here. Erik is no different than anyone else. It’s not really my place to say anything, but I think Erik might find comfort under the darkness while the stars and moon and the beautiful canvas of night provide a feeling of perhaps not being so alone. CVAAS is a special place. This is where I met my late wife.”

Christine stilled. She knew there was something about Sarah and Jacob she felt drawn to: they knew the pain of losing a parent so young. “I’m so sorry for your loss, and I’m so sorry for Sarah and Jacob as well, Dave.” She gazed off into the open field again to watch Erik sitting next to Sarah and Jacob, pointing a smell pen laser up into the sky to point out a constellation. “He’s so good with them,” she said under her breath.

“Sarah and Jacob can be a handful, especially with people who remind them of their mom in some way. Erik has a lot of the same traits as her.”

“What was her name, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Her name was Marie. She passed almost five years ago.”

At this Christine fell quiet and sad. That was her mom’s name. And Gus passed aways almost five years ago as well. There were so many similarities with this family. Christine felt that the ties that bind were starting to weave tighter. She slowly started realizing even more how much courage it took for Erik to bring her here. To a place that truly opened up another door to his past. She remembered Nadir’s words right before they left Philadelphia:  _ Don’t be afraid to let him in _ .

The last of the CVAAS members departed and Erik escorted Sarah and Jacob back to where Christine and Dave stood chatting. “Hey Dave, I’d like to hang back for a little with Christine. We’ll lock up the building and the gate if that’s ok.”

“Absolutely. You two have a good rest of the evening. It was really wonderful to meet you, Christine. We all hope to see you back here soon for a visit. Merry Christmas you two!”

“It was an honor to meet all three of you. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”

As the Rucker family drove off, Christine and Erik remained outside. Hands and noses red and tight from the bitter cold. “I wanted to show you earlier but it was crowded. Come with me,” Erik said as his fingers once again wound themselves around Christine’s. They made their way to the back of the building where a long staircase up to the observatory loomed. “Watch your step,” he motioned to Christine to let her go first. “Close your eyes,” he said as they reached the top and he opened the door, “and wait right here.” Christine closed her eyes and listened as Erik’s footsteps clanked on the metal floor. She heard a whirring sound and gears turning and finally heard Erik’s footsteps come back outside. “Take my hand and follow me, but keep your eyes closed.” He led her carefully into an enclosed room, feeling the winter wind getting blocked out from the enclosure. “Ok, open your eyes and look through the sight piece.” Christine opened her eyes to see Erik in front of her, a huge smile on his face. With a nod, she looked through the piece and gasped. Erik felt his heart skip a beat at the sound escaping her throat.

“Holy… oh my gosh, Erik! It’s Jupiter! It’s so clear! This is amazing! I just… I have no words. This is so beautiful!” Christine was awestruck. This was absolutely breathtaking. She couldn’t pry herself away from the telescope.

Erik smiled so big his mask shifted slightly on his face. Watching her, hearing her, her pure innocence watching something from the heavens, like an angel observing her ethereal realm through a special lense. “This telescope is named Big Mama. I wanted to show her to you after everyone had gone because it’s just… so very special.”

Christine looked dazedly at Erik, feeling so overwhelmed with the whole evening and this precious time they spent together. “Thank you so much for bringing me here,” she said, taking a small step closer to him. “This everything I didn’t realize I needed to see and experience. Thank you for sharing this part of you.” Another step closer and she wrapped her arms around Erik’s neck, hearing his breath hitch in his chest as she raised herself to her toes and kissed him, again and again and again. Their cold noses rubbing together, their hot breath coming out in grey puffs in the darkness of the observatory. As they pulled away from each other, Erik shivered and suggested it was time to lock up and make the drive back to Western Cypress.

As they exited the observatory and Erik locked the door, Christine turned to make her way down the stairs when something in the sky caught her eye. “Erik, look!! What is that?” she practically yelled while pointing.

Erik glanced up and gasped. “What in the world…?” They fell into silence as they watched six brilliantly illuminated white lines streak through the night sky over the sleepy town below the mountaintop. They watched in awe as smaller bands of light broke away, littering the sky with a multitude of white streaks. “I think that was a satellite breaking apart in the atmosphere. It had to have been. Let’s go find out.”

They walked down the stairs and Erik led them into the planetarium’s small library. Erik booted up the old computer and pulled up a website which tracked different celestial bodies as well as satellites. “Sure enough… it’s an old Soviet rocket booster that lost orbit.”

“How cool is THAT?!” Christine giggled. “I swear this evening can’t get much better. Erik, this is just… thank you so much.” She glanced at the clock on the wall in the library. “Holy crap, it’s already 12:30AM. It’ll take forever to get back to Western Cypress.” Then the idea struck her: drive to the house in the woods and stay there tonight.  _ Erik opened up for you tonight; time to open up to him _ . “It’s really late. If you’re ok with it, the house is only 30 minutes south of here. We can stay there tonight and then make our way back tomorrow morning.”

Erik glanced up at Christine, fidgeting nervously. The house in the woods was her safe haven, the place he had a feeling her and Nadir escaped to whenever he observed her pulling away. The house in the woods was her refuge, some intensely private. “Are you sure, Christine? I don’t want to intrude on a place so very sacred for you.”

“I’m sure. Let’s go,” Christine replied with a smile.

As Erik locked up the driveway gate and got back into the car, he watched Christine carefully as she drove cautiously down the dark, unpaved road. “I want to show you something funny,” She said as they sat at a traffic light. “I’ll take the back roads home because there’s something I want to show you.” They drove down a hill and turned right onto another long, winding street. The car came to a slow crawl. “Quick story on this: the first time I drove past this house with dad and Nadir, we had to reverse to see this house again. We call it the flamingo house and for good reason. Look out your window.” 

Erik raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. His mouth hung open, not able to formulate anything intelligent to say. There stood the most gaudy mansion he had ever seen. It was painted flamingo pink, and behind the gated driveway, there stood at least seven large, plastic fluorescent green palm trees wrapped in green Christmas lights. “What in God’s name…?” Erik blurted out. “What the hell?” Christine’s boisterous laughter broke his gawking stares as he watched her completely lose control. She was laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. She went to inhale for another breath but let out an obnoxious snort, which caused her to erupt in hysterics as she brought her hands up to her mouth and nose in embarrassment. Erik couldn’t hold it in any longer. Soon his own deep, boisterous laughter erupted and the two of them laughed until their sides ached.

Slowly getting a grip, Christine wiped the last of her laughable tears from her eyes and drove off. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to erase that house from my memory. I’ll have nightmares about that place,” Erik chuckled. Christine glanced over and offered a goofy smile. The rest of the drive was small talk, but soon sleepiness was infiltrating itself stealthily into the car. Erik didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until a bump rocked the car and bright lights flashed on. He opened his eyes to find them sitting in an illuminated driveway, greeted by a small one-story rancher tucked into dense trees and a perfectly landscaped yard. “Well, this is it: my childhood home. The house in the woods,” Christine offered reverently, her eyes turning glassy.

Erik felt some pull at his heartstrings, it was a yearning he had never felt before. There was something about this place, something welcoming and warm. It was the same feeling he had every time he was with Christine. It was another aspect of feeling like he was home. “I love your house, Christine. It’s perfect,” he said as he reached for Christine’s hand and squeezed gently. They walked up the sidewalk together in silence and entered the house. Christine flipped on a light switch which illuminated the living room. Erik was breathless as his eyes immediately gazed upon the beautiful mahogany baby grand piano in the corner of the living room. His heart raced at the two beauties before him: the sight of Christine next to the piano as she leaned over to turn up the heat on the thermostat.

“It should get warmed up here soon; sorry it’s so cold. Not sure if you want to take a hot shower, but I can grab a clean towel and washcloth for you. I think there’s extra shampoo and soap in the linen closet. This might be awkward, but I think Nadir keeps a few sweatpants and t-shirts in the spare bedroom if you want.”

“Shower would be great. Um, and Nadir won’t mind? Feels weird.”

Christine chuckled, “Yeah I know. We kinda keep a stash of stuff here. We come up here about once a month to just… I don’t know, I guess to just get away sometimes. I like how you described this house as being sacred. And it is. I mean, I never even let Kevin…” and she quickly dropped off at the sound of his name crossing her lips. It almost scared her; she hadn’t uttered his name for almost two years. So why now? Why here? And why with Erik standing before her. “I’ll go grab the shower stuff and clothes.” And she disappeared down the long hallway. A few minutes later, Erik saw a light turn on as he heard Christine’s voice call out, “Stuff is in the bathroom. Choose whatever room you want. Good night.”

Erik stood confused, dumbfounded, and almost lost and uncomfortable standing in the middle of this almost empty house. The silence was deafening. He turned off the lights in the living room, running his fingers over the length of the baby grand, and went to take a shower. He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing sweatpants that were too short and a t-shirt meant for an older gentleman with a gut. He looked ridiculous but was appreciative of the warm clothing to wear to bed. He put his ear up to the closed door of Christine’s bedroom and observed no movement and no sound. He laid in bed for a short while as his mind churned over and over what had just occurred. He felt as if he were treading of hallowed ground and was no longer welcomed, as if he had overstepped his bounds. Unable to stave off his heavy eyelids, Erik finally fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when he heard the doorknob click open to his bedroom. He glanced at the bedside clock as it blinked back that it was 3:30AM. The familiar scent of lavender filled the room as he felt the empty side of his bed dip under the weight of Christine. He rolled over and met her wary eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you,” Christine whispered ever so quietly and gently grabbed Erik’s hands.

Erik nodded and found his fingers automatically entwined with Christine’s. “Are you ok?” he asked quietly, his voice deeper than usual from sleep.

“I’m sorry for earlier. Erik…” and she couldn’t finish her sentence as her lips came to Erik’s, moving her body to lean over Erik’s side, her hand coming up to touch his deformed face. “Erik,” she whispered his name like a plea of forgiveness. Another kiss, this time deeper and fuller as her lips wanted to work Erik’s lips like molding clay to allow her in. He relented and their tongues danced as they explored each other slowly at first but with a building urgency. Desire radiated from every inch of Christine’s body as Erik’s hands wrapped themselves around her waist, caressing her sides as they moved up, up, up, and upward still. Erik had never wanted to feel anything more than the feel of Christine’s soft, bare skin beneath his hands. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her in one motion and tossed to the floor.

His ragged breath became heavier with deep rumblings of desire as he traced the soft lacy straps of Christine’s bralette. She was simply intoxicating. Her scent, the taste of her mouth, the suppleness of her skin, the goosebumps littering her arms with every touch he bestowed to her. His heart skipped at least three beats as he felt Christine’s hand move from his face to his neck, tracing the rigged lines of his jawline, down his collar bone. Her fingers felt like tiny figure skaters dancing and gliding softly down his torso and skated dangerously close to the top of his pants. He could feel her heart pounding and her the pulse of her neck throbbing violently as he kissed her neck, eliciting a melody of perfect desire and temptation. He wanted her, but his breath hitched as he felt her hands working frantically to lift his shirt up as he had done just moments before. “Christine, no, st-stop,” he could barely make his voice audible but she couldn’t hear him as she still tried to remove the shirt from him. He wanted her to touch him, to feel him but suddenly he grabbed her hands and wrenched them away from when he felt her hands move to his back and came to the first patches of raised scars. “Enough, Christine… I said enough!” he yelled and pushed himself off the bed and onto the floor, leaving Christine sitting upwards on the bed, grabbing a pillow to cover herself. “Enough,” he panted, “I can’t…”

* * *

**_January 2005 - Pennsylvania_ **

“So Mr. Trickman, you have completed your 400 hours of mandatory community service. As you have met to the satisfaction of the court, what have you to say from this experience.”

Inwardly Kevin seethed.  _ This is still all her fault. I shouldn’t have never had to do this. Fake it for these imbeciles _ . “Your honor, I truly understand the error of my ways and now understand the consequences of my actions. The time I spent at the battered women’s shelter has been enlightening, and I am looking forward to starting this new chapter.”

“Thank you, Mr. Trickman. The court hereby closes this case and is satisfied with the outcome. Good luck to you, young man,” the judge said as the gavel hit the table.

“So Kev, what’s the plan now?” asked his friend Mike later at the local bar in Western Cypress.

“Finish college, I guess. I only got one year left. Hard to say, man. She fucked everything up for me.” He sloshed back another sip.

“Maybe start over somewhere new, man. Maybe a different college?”

“Maybe…”  _ I’ll find her one of these days _ .

* * *

**_May 2007_ **

“Hey Kev, did you see this?” Mike handed Kevin the schedule for the doctoral performances for the end of semester. One name stood out.

_ Erik Destler (B.A. Music Composition and Violin; M.Arts Music Composition and Violin) will present his final doctoral performance on Saturday, May 12, 2007 at 7:00PM in the Emilie K. Asplundh Concert Hall located at 200 South High Street, Western Cypress, PA 19383. Performance presentation will feature two solo voice pieces for male and female voice, one vocal duet, and one original symphonic work. Featured performers will be Erik Destler, Christine Daae, and the Western Cypress University Symphonic Orchestra. _

_ Doctoral Performance Committee: _

_ Dr. Ubaldo Piagni, Dean of the College of Music, Western Cypress University  
_ _ Dr. Nikolai Marrenesco, Professor of Music Composition and Cello, Western Cypress University (Advisor)  
_ __ Dr. James Hadley, Professor of Violin and Performance Arts, Western Cypress University  
_ Dr. Yolanda Vidali, Professor of Vocal Performance, Western Cypress University  
_ __ Dr. Brulinda Addams-Phillips, Professor of Orchestra, Piano and Performance Arts, Western Cypress University

This was his chance.


	21. Chapter 21: All I Ask Of You

**Chapter 21: All I Ask Of You**

“Enough, Christine… I said enough!” he yelled and pushed himself off the bed and onto the floor, leaving Christine sitting upwards on the bed, grabbing a pillow to cover herself. “Enough,” he panted, “I can’t…” Erik crumbled onto the floor, cowering away from Christine, his breath ragged and uneven. Christine watched helplessly as Erik’s body shook and trembled.

“I-I’m sorry, Erik. I thought…” Christine couldn’t think or make sense of what had just happened.

“Don’t. Just don’t… you don’t ever need to apologize to me. I’m sorry, Christine, I’m the one who is sorry.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted… you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

“I DO!” he didn’t intend for that to come out as harshly as it did. “Trust me, I do want you. More than you can possibly know. It’s just,” he couldn’t finish as he watched Christine quickly grab her shirt off the floor and pull it back on. She crawled onto the floor and sat in front of him. This position felt so familiar. It was reminiscent of when they sat before each other the night of his welcome home party, the night the truth was revealed.

“Erik, why the scars on your back? I felt them, I touched them. What are they from?” she quietly asked as she gently brought his hands into hers. She bent her head low in order to make eye contact with Erik. And when his eyes caught hers, he knew what he needed to tell her.

“My mother was… is… an alcoholic and drug addict. I don’t know anything about my father. I was born like this, and even to this day I don’t know why she kept me. She should’ve given me away or just killed me. Every other evening it was a new man coming back to the trailer, the smells and the sounds...” he swallowed hard. “It became a game to these men and friends of Mother’s.”

Christine sat appalled, anger bubbling inside. “What game, Erik?”

“Who could bestow physical torture the best on a demon from hell.” He huffed out a heavy, resigned sigh as he lifted his shirt away from his body, discarding it onto the floor. He turned to face away from Christine and exposed his bare back in full view.

“Oh my God, no…” she gasped and almost gagged. “Erik, no. No…”

“Cigar burns,” he whispered as he felt Christine’s trembling fingers move lightly from round scar to round scar. The grey ashy circles were everywhere. “Lashes from a metal belt buckle.” Her fingers moved to the longer, deeper welts and scars across his back. “By the time I turned 14, I had had enough, and I ran. I ran away and I never looked back. I was homeless for a few months until I was picked up by child services. I refused to tell them anything, mostly out of fear. I was shuffled in and out of different homes more times than I can count. Somehow I ended up in a group home run by some religious organization in central Pennsylvania. By the time I turned 16, I dropped out of high school and left the group home, and never looked back. I did things I knew were wrong but I needed to survive. I started dealing to make money, first just marijuana then into the harder stuff, but it was just enough to scrape money together to pay for a shit motel room to live in. I started working as a janitor in a few bookstores and the local shopping mall. It wasn’t until I was 19 when I finally scraped enough money together and started saving. I was glued to the music book section in these bookstores and started teaching myself how to read music. It came like a second language, so easy and it just clicked. I can’t explain it. I would buy second-hand instruments to itch this craving for music. I didn’t find real fulfillment until an open mic night was scheduled at one of the bookstores I was working at. Something inside me was burning to create so I just got up and started playing the most basic of songs that was overplayed on the overhead speakers every day in the bookstore. I sang and the place fell quiet. That night I met Nikolai and Dr. Monty Reyer, who was the Dean of the music college at Western Cypress at the time. They tracked me down after the store closed for the night. Nikolai helped me get right and I lived with him for a long time as he helped me get my GED and finally when I was accepted into Western Cypress for undergrad.”

He spoke so fast that his sentences practically bled together. He never took a breath. He was spilling out his past, his pain, his hang-ups in front of his beloved. “Oh Erik, what kind of life have you known?” she barely whispered as she gently laid her hands upon Erik’s bare back and ever so softly caressed the scars until her hands reached his shoulders. She leaned in and placed a kiss on the back of his neck. Erik shuttered and collapsed backwards into Christine. He was shaking with quiet sobs. Christine wrapped her arms tight around him, offering perhaps the comfort of an all-encompassing embrace and permitted him to release the pain through his tears.

Erik awoke to Christine curled up behind him in bed. Her right arm nestled against his still bare back, feeling her hand sprawled wide, warmth emitting from her. Her left arm was around his waist with her hand holding steadfastly over his heart. He didn’t dare move if it meant leaving the warm, comforting embrace of his angel. He felt her shift slightly, her hair tickling his neck and heard a quiet, contented sigh. “Good morning,” she whispered and placed a soft kiss against his back. 

Erik rolled over and faced Christine, placing a kiss to her forehead. “Hi,” he whispered back, searching her eyes for something but not really knowing what he was hoping to find.

“Thank you for telling me, Erik,” Christine said with a comforting smile. “You’re very brave.”

“You’ve done something to me, Christine. I feel…” What did he feel? This strange feeling he’d never felt before. “I feel at peace. And I feel it most when I’m with you. In moments like this.” _ Just tell her you love her; tell her now. Ask her to marry you; ask her to share your life. Tell her you love her _ .

“Spend Christmas with me. Here, together, with me and Nadir. Here in the house,” she smiled. “Come to church with us on Christmas Eve.”

Erik grimaced at the thought of church… of talk about sin, and hell, and damnation. “I’m not one who… I don’t know what I believe in Christine.”

“I understand. I’ve been where you’re at. Christmas Eve offers hope. I want you here with me. And… I’m singing at the midnight candlelight service. I wanted to surprise you.”

“For you, I will.”

An hour later both were dressed and saying goodbye to the house in the woods until Christmas. “Can I take you to my favorite diner for breakfast? I’m starving,” Christine offered. Erik smiled. This small town of Christine’s youth was everything he thought small towns should be. Even in the dead of winter, it was still welcoming and warm. As they pulled up to Steinsburg Family Restaurant in the heart of the small town of Steinsburg, the smells of buttermilk waffles, bacon, and warm maple syrup filled their noses and caused both their stomachs to rumble with hunger.

They sat quietly in this rundown diner, idly chatting about Christine’s childhood and her memories. Breakfast quickly consumed to fulfill their empty stomachs, and soon they found their way heading south towards Philadelphia.

# # #

**_Christmas Eve_ **

Christine and Erik were the first to arrive at the house in the woods as Nadir had some paperwork to take care of at the office. He promised he’d be there before dinner, so Christine and Erik thought it would be a nice surprise to arrive in the morning to decorate the house. Once they got settled, Christine took Erik up into the attic to track down the boxes of decorations. When Christine pulled the cord to the ill-lit attic lightbulb, Erik gawked at the floor. “Christine, what is all this?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about this. So, when I was little, my dad thought it’d be a good idea to write down favorite memories, funny stories, or other random stuff. So, any time one of us had to come up here, whether to go through seasonal clothes, bring down decorations, or just to organize, we’d always write something down in permanent marker on the attic floor.”

Erik’s eyes hopped from one memory to another. But there was one in particular that caught his attention. He crawled his way to a darker corner and moved a box out of the way to get a closer look. Then handwriting read:  _ I finally met him a few weeks ago, and it was everything I needed it to be. And I kissed him. June 2006. _ Erik smiled as he turned to watch Christine shimmy across the floor towards a stack of boxes tucked away in a darkened corner. Erik made a move to help when something else caught his attention. He read it quietly aloud, “After a while, you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul. And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises. And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.” The silence in the attic was deafening. Erik looked over at Christine to find her sitting completely still, her shoulders and back hunched over as if in pain, staring off into a darkened void. “Did you write this?” The silence grew heavier. “Christine?”

Christine released a heavy sigh, gradually coming back from wherever her mind took her. “I found it online somewhere. I think some author named Borges wrote it, I don’t really know. After the trial, I practically begged Nadir to let us leave Pennsylvania. I just wanted to run away and get away from all the memories. The memories of my dad, of this house… and I wanted to forget all the pain from dad’s death, and I wanted to forget everything about Kevin, about the college… I wanted to forget about you.”

Erik swallowed hard. “I understand. I should’ve showed up that night, Christine. It’s my fault.”

“Stop, it’s not your fault,” she said rather pointedly. “It’s only Kevin’s, I know this now. But a part of me wanted to hate you, wanted to blame you. And I almost succeeded in convincing myself I didn’t lo-...” she dropped off quickly and corrected herself, “that I didn’t want you. Or miss you. So we packed up and we moved to Tucson, and I didn’t look back.”  _ You love him, Christine, just say it. Just say the word. _

“What made you want to come back here? To take on a master’s program at Western Cypress? After everything that had happened?”

Christine looked straight into Erik’s eyes and held them. Erik felt himself drowning in her emerald green eyes. God she was beautiful. “You,” she replied as she crawled over to Erik. She leaned into his touch as he caressed her face. “You brought me back,” she said, placing a kiss upon his lips.

_ Tell her you love her. Ask her to marry you; just tell her you love her _ . His brain and his heart were in time with each other, beating his body into submission of telling her he loved her with every fiber of his being, that he wanted to spend the rest of his existence on this earth by her side, making beautiful music together, to give him some semblance of a normal life. “I guess we should get these decorations up before Nadir arrives,” Christine said, breaking Erik away from his inner monologue.

By lunchtime the house was filled in modest decorations. Evergreen garlands wrapped with white twinkle lights hung on the fireplace mantle as well as over the sliding glass door leading to the screened-in porch. An artificial tree wrapped with an overabundance of white lights and covered with an array of homemade Christmas ornaments. The finishing touch on top of the tree was the last thing remaining. With almost an air of humility and penance, Christine carefully reached for a rather small, purple box. “Traditional star or angel?” Erik asked. He was truly enjoying decorating with Christine, it was everything he had dreamed and more.

“Actually, it’s the crown of thorns,” she replied reverently. Erik watched curiously as Christine pulled the somewhat odd choice for a tree topper. Christine glanced at Erik and handed him the crown of thorns. He apprehensively took the object as Christine motioned for him to place it onto the top of the tree. “It sends a beautifully powerful story, if you think about it,” she said as they stepped back to take in the fully decorated tree. “And the greatest love story ever told.” Something stirred deep within his soul but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Nadir had finally arrived at the house in the woods a little after lunchtime. The rest of the afternoon was quiet and lazy. Christine relaxed on the couch watching Erik play the piano while Nadir whipped up his special Christmas cider in the kitchen. Erik felt like this is where he was meant to be. By late afternoon, the house began to come alive with the trio in the kitchen chatting and laughing while Christine prepped her traditional Christmas Eve lasagna dinner. 

“Should we do presents after dinner or do that traditional thing and open stuff tomorrow morning?” Nadir asked. 

“You’re decision, Erik. Now or tomorrow?” Christine winked.

“Tomorrow. I feel your singing tonight will be a gift to relish in for years to come,” Erik replied, raising Christine’s hand for a gentle kiss. 

Nadir nodded with a smile and a quiet chuckle.

“What’s with the laugh, old man?” Christine chided, smacking Nadir in the arm.

“Nothing. Just that, well, you two remind me so much of Gus and Marie,” he replied nostalgically. “They would’ve liked you a lot, Erik.” Nadir lightly patted Erik’s shoulder and turned back to prepping the salad.

Dinner and rest of the early evening passed quickly, and soon it was time to get ready for the last church service. Christine emerged from her bedroom wearing a knee-length, dark emerald green dress with a lace overlay. Her hair was French braided on the sides and then pulled back in a loosely set bun. She came into the living room to find Erik in the living room, admiring the tree. His tall frame immaculately dressed with dark gray trousers, a perfectly pressed black dress shirt, and polished shoes. “You cut a very handsome figure, Dr. Destler,” Christine smirked.

Erik huffed out unevenly, “I don’t hold that title yet, Christine.”

“You will. I know it.”

Erik was surprised that it took just five minutes to drive to the church. As they reached the stop sign, Erik’s eyes immediately locked onto the beautiful stone building sitting on the top of a hill. They parked the car in the lot and walked down the long sidewalk to the main entrance of the church. Luminaries lit the pathway as Erik and Christine walked hand in hand behind Nadir. Christine felt Erik’s nerves as the multitude of voices echoed near the entrance. What would they think of him? Would they judge him? Would he immediately burst into flames upon entering the sanctuary? But his expectations of the worse were dismissed immediately. “Christine and Nadir, Merry Christmas to you! And who is this young man?” asked Pastor Allen.

“Merry Christmas, Pastor. I’d like to introduce Erik Destler,” Christine said.

“Welcome and Merry Christmas, Erik. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re glad you’ve joined us this evening! You’re in for a real treat with Christine singing tonight.”

“Thank you, sir,” was all Erik could respond.

The sanctuary took Erik’s breath away. It was quaint and wholesome and welcoming. A large evergreen tree stood proudly yet serenely in the corner near the pulpit. A crown of thorns adorned the top of the tree and white lights hugged the immense beauty, offering gentleness and warmth. What drew Erik’s attention away from the tree was the gorgeous grand piano in the opposite corner of the sanctuary. This black beauty stood perfectly polished and glimmered in the soft light of the immense room. Erik felt strangely comforted here. This wasn’t at all what he imagined church to be like. They sat down in a pew in the middle of the sanctuary and the prelude began. Erik watched in awe as the lights dimmed and a group of acolytes began lighting the multitude of candelabras throughout the sanctuary.

Although Erik became the music when he performed, this was different. For the first time, he sat… listening, watching, feeling. Goosebumps dotted his skin and he shifted uncomfortably in the pew.  _ What’s wrong with me? _ Christine must have noticed as she grabbed his hand. The first Christmas hymns were sung and prayers were recited. 

Then it was something the Pastor said in the opening remarks of his sermon. “Jesus wept. Such a short, two word statement. Poignant. Straightforward. Quick and easy. But the  _ weight _ of those two words. Think about that for a moment: Jesus wept. He wept. He shed tears. He felt and knew sorrow, grief, and the burden of loss. It’s easy to get swept up in the elation of Christmas: decorations, buying presents, extending love and hospitality. But it seems rather short-lived, doesn’t it? By the time the New Year rolls in, we are quick to pack everything up and fall back into the same routines of our lives. We sing songs wishing Jesus a happy birthday, and offer our studies on the significance of Christ’s birth. But the biggest thing we need to remember about Christmas is His divinity and His humanity. Jesus wept. God in the flesh, the Creator of ALL life, wept. He wept. He  _ knows _ the grief you carry. He  _ knows _ the sorrow you feel. How? Because He is with you.” 

Erik felt his throat tighten, and tears blurring his vision. This wasn’t like him at all. Mere words from a supposed man of the cloth doling out unrelatable knowledge. Usually sermons were just words droning on and on is some boring funeral march. But this… this was different.  _ Jesus wept… because He is with you. He is with me _ . Erik kept repeating this to himself over and over. “And just as the wreath of Advent stays evergreen,” Pastor Allen concluded, breaking Erik from his thoughts, “Christ’s love for you, for me, for us, remains steadfast. Unchanging. Unrelenting. Jesus wept; but through His death and His resurrection, peace, hope, love, and joy are the true gifts of this season. Amen. At this time, I welcome the ushers to come forward to share the light of Christ, the light of His divinity.”

Christine squeezed Erik’s hand lightly and walked up to the front of the sanctuary, her music cradled in her arms. He watched as other musicians gathered around the grand piano. The opening chords of Vavilov’s Ave Maria began in time with the oboe and the rich, full undertones of the cello. And there, with the descending bass line of the cello rang crystal clear Christine’s angelic voice. Full, rich, clear… the vibrato, her breathing, and the look of absolute peace filling every ounce of her being. The lights suddenly went dark as Erik watched enthralled as the congregation held candles as the flame was passed from wick to wick. The soft, yellow glow from all the candles, the sound of Christine’s perfectly crystalline voice echoing through the high ceiling of the sanctuary was overwhelming. He unknowingly let out a long sigh, blinked hard and felt a single tear streak down his face. Suddenly he felt Nadir’s hand on his shoulder, almost like a father comforting his son. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Erik heard Nadir whisper. All Erik could do was nod.

After the service, the steeple’s bells tolled at midnight as the congregation filtered out of the sanctuary to make their way home to await Christmas morning. “I’ll just be a minute. I think I left my bulletin on the pew,” said Erik and he went back up the stairs and stepped into the sanctuary, closing the door behind him. Everything was still and quiet, the only light in the empty room was emanating from the large Christmas tree. Erik walked slowly up the aisle in the middle of the sanctuary, looking around at every detail of the stained-glass windows, the colors glistening under the soft twinkle lights of the tree. The sound of one of the sanctuary doors closing behind him made him jump.

“Erik? Is everything alright?” Christine’s soft voice broke through the silence. Erik sat in a pew and stared at the cross hung above the altar. “Erik?” She sat down beside him.

“I hardly know, Christine. Everything about tonight… I never thought I would enjoy being in a place like this. And this  _ feeling _ I can’t explain, this all-encompassing peace. I feel… something different. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Christine smiled. “Erik, what you’re feeling,  _ who _ you are feeling is Christ as the Holy Spirit. You needed to be here tonight. He knows the weight you carry. I gave my life to Christ almost a year ago, the night I decided that my future was built upon a Redeemer who would heal the scars of my past and who would carry the burdens of my heart.”

Erik sat motionless, taking in everything Christine was saying to him. “This feeling, Christine, is so alien to me. I never thought I’d be one to believe in God. What do I do with this?”

“You can accept the invitation right now or walk away.” Erik stared at Christine as the silence, unspoken plea of acceptance passed between them. She smiled at him so very gently and knelt before Erik, “I’m here.”

Again Erik sighed heavily, “I’ve been carrying it all for too long; I’m tired, I can’t do this alone anymore. I want what your Pastor described tonight. I accept.” And he suddenly felt lighter and the years of regret, torment came falling away and Erik wept. He collapsed into Christine’s arms, and she held him tight. She looked up at the cross hanging above the altar with tears in her eyes and whispered to the heavens, “Thank you.”

Christine and Erik met Nadir at the main exit of the church and Nadir eyed Erik carefully. And with an understanding nod and gentle smile, the trio made their way back to the house in the woods.

Their first Christmas together, and it was all Erik needed it to be. For the first time in his entire life, he felt like he could finally take a deep breath without needing to glance behind to keep the ghosts of his past at bay.

# # #

When Christine and Erik returned back to Western Cypress before the semester break was over, they felt a renewed purpose with a new inspiration. They could feel it pulsing through their veins. Creativity, inspiration and a new sense of belonging fueled them towards success. Christine let down the barriers holding her back from truly understanding and feeling Erik’s music. They worked hard practicing over and over and over. When the Spring semester started back in mid-January, Dr. Marrenesco was speechless when Christine sang the piece flawlessly. “Well,” Nikolai responded breathlessly as the song ended, “you’ve proven me wrong, Erik. I expect great things from you both. Now, what about this duet Erik, you mentioned that it was already written. Have you practiced this yet?”

“Truthfully, I scrapped the original duet,” Erik responded, and both Christine and Nikolai looked at each other nervously.

With a steadying breath, Nikolai nodded apprehensively. “Miss Daae, I trust your sight reading skills are up to par. And Erik, who will be performing the male part?”

“I will,” Erik replied pointedly.

“When did you even compose this?” Christine asked as Erik handed her the manuscript. She glanced at the title: All I Ask Of You and she felt a smile pulled on her smile, her heart beating hard in her chest.  _ Is this what I think it is? _

Erik looked amused. “Shall we begin? I would like to hear this, as rough as it may be for the first run through, albeit incomplete at this point,,” Nikolai motioned for Erik and Christine to stand next to each other as he took a seat at the piano to play the accompaniment. A brief introduction and Erik’s voice came in clear, deep, and soft:

_ No more talk of darkness  
_ _ Forget these wide-eyed fears  
_ _ I'm here, nothing can harm you  
_ _ My words will warm and calm you _

_ Let me be your freedom  
_ _ Let daylight dry your tears  
_ _ I'm here, with you, beside you  
_ _ To guard you and to guide you _

Christine felt the words seep deep into her soul. It was Erik confessing his unending devotion and loyalty. The both knew how difficult it was for either of them to simply say the words “I love you” and Erik knew that through music, the language that started it all, would serve as the prelude to those three powerful words. And Christine knew it; she knew the music would say it all.

_ Say you love me every waking moment  
_ _ Turn my head with talk of summertime  
_ _ Say you need me with you now and always  
_ _ Promise me that all you say is true  
_ _ That's all I ask of you _

The rest had yet to be written, but Erik and Christine already knew how it would end.

* * *

**_Mid-April 2007_ **

“Erik, it’s time to pick the date to schedule your performance. Taking into consideration that finals week is May 7-10, I would suggest scheduling the performance for Saturday the 12th. Given the final exam structure for the other professors that week, this is the best probable date. It would also free up time for your friends, peers, and the university to sit in for the performance. I certainly welcome your thoughts,” Nikolai motioned to Erik to the calendar pointed to Saturday, May 12, 2007 for his performance.

“I believe this will work for Christine as well since she also has her last final is that Thursday afternoon,” Erik responded, knowing the conversation would not go well. It was the anniversary eve of that terrible night.

“Good. Please let me know as soon as possible so we can reserve Asplundh concert hall and get the rehearsals scheduled as well. The orchestra members have had copies of the manuscript and pieces. Dr. Addams-Phillips has been working with the orchestra. Now that she is serving on the award committee, she has given the conductor role to another adjunct, who she has assured me is highly competent. Perhaps we schedule three rehearsals, with a full break the week of finals to rest and mentally prepare. Friday afternoon will be the last run-through, non-stop. We’ll get the flow for the performance and that’ll be a wrap until Saturday.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Nikolai, for everything.”

“I’m very proud of you, Erik.”

# # #

“Does it really have to be  _ that _ week? Can’t it be sooner?” Christine pleaded. Tension riddled throughout her body.

“Yes, because that’s finals week. It’s the end for me, and this is it. And it has to be done right. Perhaps, my Christine, we can move forward together from this. I’m so sorry.”

“So it’s really set in stone? We can’t change the date?” 

Erik nodded with regret.

# # #

Winter turned into spring and soon after the Easter holiday, rehearsals began. As with previous years, Christine began turning inwards and her aura darkened as the anniversary of the events from that horrific night approached, and this year was no different. Tonight was the first night of rehearsals, but only for the symphony which was the more important aspect for Erik’s doctoral performance, which meant Erik would not be returning until later in the evening.

Ever since Erik mentioned the date for his performance, Christine had a terrible feeling, like something was following her two steps behind. This overwhelming sense of a presence always lurking, just waiting to devour her. It was unnerving and unsettling; and it was something that she felt she couldn’t talk to Nadir or Erik about. She felt it was something they couldn’t possibly understand. It was a haunting from her past that would haunt her future.

Then it happened, the night before the vocal practices were to start with the orchestra was the first nightmare. Christine found herself in a cold cement stairwell, climbing up a flight of steps, her footsteps echoing loudly. That’s when she heard it, this growl from behind, the unnerving presence she had been feeling at her back came to life. The shapeless being grabbed her from behind and threw her down the steps. She could hear the sounds of bones snapping and breaking. The being remained in the shadows, growling and snarling. And right when she began to feel a sharp pain on her face, she’d wake up, her hands immediately finding her nightstand lamp to illuminate her room.

Finally at the beginning of May, Christine arrived for the first rehearsal for her part to the auditorium at 6:00PM to find Erik, Dr. Marrenesco, Dr. Addams-Phillips, and the university orchestra already warmed up. “Erik, am I late?” Christine panicked as Erik greeted her mid-aisle with a small kiss to her hand.

“No, we just finished the male solo piece so we’re in between sets. Come with me and we’ll get your voice warmed up,” Erk smiled. He was elated. Things were falling into place perfectly. There was no way Christine could talk to him right now about the night before with her nightmare. Priority right now went to making sure she sang and that she sang well. After warming up, Christine joined Erik onto the stage as he sat at the piano. Shortly after introductions and instructions, rehearsal was underway. 

Christine tried to push down the encroaching sense of dread and doom from last night’s nightmare. The confidence she had just two months ago with Erik’s pieces was gone. She couldn’t complete the ascending runs fully, her voice faltered and grew weak. She struggled to finish the piece. Then with a suggestion to move onto the duet, it was another disaster. By the ending stanzas of  _ All I Ask Of You _ , her voice cracked and a unanimous gasp fell over the orchestra. Christine watched Nikolai close his eyes and shake his head. “Erik, a word. Now,” Nikolai motioned to Erik off to one of the wings. “What the hell just happened? Not two months ago, she soared and now her voice is just where it was in December when the last fiasco occurred. Erik, you have two weeks! Miss Daae either gets it together within the week or Carlotta sings.” Erik made to protest but was immediately cut off, “No debating with me. She has seven days.” They returned to the stage as Nikolai announced, “Alright everyone, that’s a wrap. It’s late. We’ll see everyone back here on Wednesday at 5:30PM. Good night.”

The whispers of the orchestra were deafening as Christine grabbed her things, watching Erik sit pensively at the piano. Everything in Christine told her to stay and wait, to tell him everything that was happening with her, but fear and sadness and that still underlying, unnerving feeling of being watched had her running back to her apartment instead. 

Erik didn’t try to see her that night, for Christine heard the foyer door open and close and the leaden footsteps coming from the upstairs apartment echoed above her until they quickly fell silent. Upon returning to his apartment, Erik collapsed into the oversized armchair. Hours after the orchestra and professors had left the concert hall after the disastrous rehearsal, Erik stayed behind, his brain trying to come to grasp what was tragically unfolding before him. Finally around midnight, he had reconciled himself to talk to Christine about not performing and letting Carlotta sing instead. 

Just as his eyes began to close, heavy with sleep, is when he heard it. A loud crash came from the downstairs apartment followed by a choked sob. He stood up but froze waiting for any other movement or sound. Quietness followed but was soon broken with another clamoring crash. He shot down the stairs and pounded on Christine’s door. “Christine! Open the door! Christine! What’s happening?!” A click of the lock and the door pulled slowly open. Christine stood before him, sweat drenching her skin and hair, her skin as pale as the dead. “Christine, are you al-...” His sentence cut short as he glanced down at the steel knife in Christine’s hand. Her body shook with absolute fright, frozen still, unable to move. “Christine, let go of the knife. It’s me, it’s Erik. Everything’s alright. Let go of the knife,” he gently spoke while trying to calm the fear coursing through his veins.

The clanking of the steel blade hitting the stone foyer floor broke Christine from whatever daze she was in. “I’m fine, I’m ok,” her voice broke unevenly. She turned and walked into the living room as Erik bent down to pick up the knife. He cautiously peered inside wondering if indeed an intruder was there inside. Nothing, empty. He placed the knife on the counter. A shattered glass littered the kitchen counter. Erik walked carefully back into the living room and sat next to Christine on the couch. “I thought he was here. I thought I saw him.”

“Saw who, Christine? What happened?” But he already knew the answer.

“Kevin. I feel… haunted by this ghost. I should have told you earlier. I just… My nightmares are back but they’re… different. They’re so much more vivid… and so incredibly violent.”

Her body trembled with paralyzing fear and shock. “Christine, please look at me.” He hesitantly removed his mask and kneeled before her, gently taking her hands into his. “I’m sorry, I was caught up in the chaos and stress and elation of my doctoral performance that I blatantly ignored your concerns and apprehensions. I pressured you into this when I shouldn’t have.” He paused considering the weight of his words and coming to realize that a life with Christine and his happiness was far more important. “Christine, I’d give everything up if it meant to have you by my side. If it meant getting to see you smile every day. If it meant holding you in my arms every night. None of this matters if I don’t have you.”  _ Ask her to marry you; tell her you love her. Tell her, Erik _ . Christine didn’t realize she was holding her breath. This felt like a proposal. She waited intensely as she watched Erik wrestling with his next words. “You don’t have to sing, Christine. I will talk to Nikolai tomorrow and tell him that Carlotta will sing instead.”

Christine sighed and shook her head. “It isn’t fair, Erik. I wanted to do this for you, to do this with you, together. I’m sorry I let you down.” 

“I think a weekend away will do you good. Call Nadir tomorrow and go to the house in the woods this weekend. We’ll figure stuff out after the semester is over.”

“You’re too good to me,” Christine said quietly, her voice breaking over the tears choking her throat. “I can’t be running away when things get hard. I’m tired of running away.”

“It’s not running away; the house in the woods is your sanctuary. It’s where you feel safe.”

“I feel safe when I’m with you,” Christine said as she leaned down and kissed him. She kissed him deep, her hands immediately coming to his face. Erik released a hungry groan as he claimed her mouth. “Stay with me tonight, Erik,” she whispered between kisses. Erik responded by taking her in his arms and carrying her back to her bedroom. They snuggled together as Erik hummed quietly, and soon both fell asleep. Instead of dreaming of violence, Christine dreamt of a wedding, seeing Erik standing before her as Nadir walked her down the aisle.

The next morning, Christine and Erik enjoyed coffee before heading to their last full day of classes before finals were to begin next week. Before they parted ways on campus, Erik hugged Christine and said, “I’ll talk to Nikolai this afternoon about the changes.”

“No.”

“What? But I thought…”

“I’m going to sing. I will not let you down. You wrote these for me, and I want to be part of this, as long as you’ll accept me.”

“You know I will, but are you sure, Christine?”

She responded simply with a kiss. “I’ll see you at 5:30PM.”


	22. A Reckoning

**Chapter 22: A Reckoning**

“Erik, she is inconsistent. One week she’s perfect, flawless. And the next, she fails miserably. We need an extra rehearsal to ensure this is NOT a fluke,” Nikolai cautioned rather annoyed. “Miss Daae, it’s Wednesday, so we’ll need a full rehearsal for all three vocal pieces tomorrow, Friday, AND Saturday. No objections. You both need to make this work.”

“I understand, Dr. Marrenesco,” Christine responded. 

For the next three days, Erik and Christine worked tirelessly perfecting every note, every intonation, every dynamic, every breath together. Neither of them would settle for less.

By the conclusion of the Saturday afternoon rehearsal, Dr. Marrenesco seemed much more at ease with the progress. The rehearsal was flawless. “Ok everyone, next week, full rehearsal from start to finish beginning Monday at 5PM, Wednesday and Thursday at the same time. Remember, the final performance and presentation will be Saturday at 7:00PM. Nice work this week folks. We’ll see everyone back here on Monday no later than 4:30PM to warm up and tune. Rehearsal begins 5PM sharp.”

# # #

Christine and Erik decided to meet up with Meg and Raoul for dinner at Iron Hill Brewery. It had been a few weeks since they had been able to sit down for a long meal and conversation since schedules and finals and Raoul’s law school load were burdensome at best. Tonight was the first time in a few weeks they’d all sat down and visited. 

“So what’s the plan after the performance? Is there a reception or party afterwards?” Raoul asked.

“I’ve reserved the rare collections room across from the performance hall for the standard 30 minute reception with the music department staff, as is customary. After that, I don’t really know,” Erik responded.

“What about a family gathering at our place for a few hours? We have the space for it,” Meg offered.

“If you don’t mind, that would be truly wonderful. Thank you, both!”

Dinner was served and quickly consumed when Meg brought up formal attire for the concert. “What’s everyone wearing?”

“The orchestra will be in standard performance attire. I will be wearing a tux,” Erik explained.

Christine practically choked on her food, “Um, is it really that formal? Erik, what am I supposed to wear? I don’t have anything...”

“Don’t worry Christine, let’s go shopping tomorrow! I’m sure Boscov’s will have something,” said Meg. “Oh, and you’ll have to let me do your makeup and hair. Girl’s day shopping tomorrow!!!”

After dinner, Erik and Christine said their goodbyes to Meg and Raoul and decided to take a walk around the campus before heading back to their apartments. The evening air had turned quite chilly but it was a beautiful night. The sky was clear and stars glistened above them. Christine sighed contentedly feeling Erik’s fingers entwine with hers as they walked through the empty campus hand in hand. “I’m really proud of you, Erik. You’ve worked so hard; I just hope I won’t let you down,” she said as they both sat on a bench in the courtyard outside of the concert hall. She fidgeted nervously at the hem of her shirt.

“You won’t, Christine. You’ll feel so much more confident after rehearsals this week, and we will continue to work together,” Erik reassured her as he held her fidgeting hands in his. His thumb gently traced the hills and valleys of her knuckles. “You sing like an angel,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. Christine gently caressed Erik’s face, tracing his pronounced jawline. A moan rumbled deep within him as his eyes fluttered closed at the softness of her touch. He leaned into her hand, feeling his lips wanting nothing more than to melt into hers. Their lips met as their ever racing heartbeats beat faster. A gentle breeze blew as it carried the ever familiar sweet scent of a nearby magnolia tree, causing Christine to falter only a little as a feeling of deja-vu nipped at her memories. “Magnolia,” she whispered between kisses.

“Magnolia?” Erik questioned as they settled against the bench, Christine nestled in Erik’s embrace.

“It’s just,” she hesitated. _Why ruin this moment mentioning Kevin? Why ruin this moment in remembering that magnolia tree the night of the party? Why ruin everything by simply remembering?_ “It’s nothing. Ready to head back?” Hand in hand, the pair walked in back to the apartment. Clouds began rolling in and the air smelled of an impending rain. “Do you want to stay?” Christine asked as they walked up the steps.

“You have a day of shopping tomorrow. And with Meg. Which means you’ll need all the energy you can muster. That girl can shop like no one’s business,” Erik chuckled.

“What have I gotten myself into?” Christine pretended defeat.

Erik laughed, “More than you can possibly know.” He wrapped his arms around Christine and held her close as Christine sighed contentedly against his chest. “And whatever dress you choose, you will look stunning,” Erik quietly added. He kissed her goodnight and the two parted ways.

# # #

“Wait, hold up, what’s this one?” Meg dove at the rack in the corner. 

Christine sighed in exasperation and exhaustion, glancing at her phone. “Meg, we’ve been at this for three hours. I’m exhausted and if you make me try on one more gaudy prom dress, I swear...” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she watched Meg pull from the corner rack the most stunning indigo gown. Christine swallowed hard as Meg brought the gown to her.

“ _That’s_ the look I wanted to see,” Meg said with a smile. “Come out when you’re ready.” She pushed Christine into the dressing room and hung up the dress. Christine emerged a few minutes later, a look of shock on her face. Meg smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Wow… just… wow.”

“It’s perfect,” Christine said quietly. Meg stealthily pulled out her phone and took a picture of Christine and immediately texted it to Erik. _Wait until you see her in this._ “What did you just do, Meg? I hardly require a paparazzi.”

“Nothing and none of your business! Come on, let’s go pay for this dress and grab lunch. I’m starving.” The girls made their way to the cashier when Meg’s phone vibrated. _She’s stunning_. Meg smiled at Erik’s text, and carefully considered her response. _Have you told her yet?_

_Told her what?_

_That you love her…_

Meg quickly tucked her phone into her purse as Christine paid and they headed towards the mall food court. The girls ordered their food and sat down to eat. “I can’t believe your wedding is just three months away. Are you guys ready?”

“Ugh, yes and no. I hate all the planning and the formalities, but yeah we’re ready. Can’t really ask for more than an evening beach wedding. You’re still coming, right?”

“Of course I’m still coming. Let’s keep hoping the weather will cooperate. Sea Isle City is a beautiful beach, and I’m ready to see you and Raoul finally get hitched.”

Meg took a huge bite of her cheeseburger. “So, things are going well between you guys? You and Erik?” she nudged the conversation into somewhat unchartered territory.

Christine smiled broadly and blushed, “Yes. He’s so gentle and patient but so incredibly passionate. I don’t know how he balances himself so well. Erik is…” she struggled to bring it out in the open, “Erik is lovely.”

Meg giggled, “Just say it, Christine. You’re in love with him. You love him.”

“I’m terrified to tell him. I mean with Kevin, as soon as I uttered those words everything changed and for the worst. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Erik is not Kevin. Your relationship now is not the relationship from your past. And I think you know that.”

“Well it’s not like I can just blurt it out randomly. How should I…?” Then it hit her: she knew how to express how she felt without saying those words first. _Yes, it would be perfect. I hope Dad wouldn’t mind_.

# # #

As finals week barreled through the campus, Christine actually looked forward to a reprieve with the rehearsals for Erik’s final doctoral performance. Confidence grew with each rehearsal that week and the energy flowing between composer, singer, and orchestra was palpable. What made things rather curious, however, was that Erik would shoo Christine off after the vocal pieces were thoroughly rehearsed. He told her numerous times that his symphony was to be a surprise, that she would only hear it at the performance. She didn’t question it: this was the final act of Erik’s youth, something he had worked for his entire life, the accomplishment that would pave the road into something greater.

When Friday arrived, Christine’s nerves grew increasingly stronger. She was nervous for the performance tomorrow night, she was incredibly anxious to hear Erik’s symphony, and she had this oddly combined feeling of fear and relief that she would finally tell Erik what her heart and head had known for such a long time: she loved him. And tomorrow she would confess her love. But would Erik reciprocate her feelings? 

Friday would be the day of rest before Erik’s performance, and Christine knew Erik would be holed up in the music building all day perfecting in the way of Erik. So Christine texted Nadir that morning. _Are you up for coffee and a visit?_

_Anything for you, kid. I’m not going to the office until later. Wanna swing by the apartment?_

_Yes, and I need Dad’s violin. I’ll see you in about an hour. Leaving now._

Nadir sat in his favorite chair staring at Christine’s message. “I need Dad’s violin,” he repeated to himself. Nadir looked up at the picture Christine had sketched of him and Gustav and smiled. “I bet I know what she’s up to just as much as you do, you old fart.” He let out a long sigh, “I don’t know, Gus. I really like that young man, and I know you would’ve, too. Wish you were here, buddy. We really miss you. Erik’s a good man; I’ve grown rather fond of him.” Nadir got up and went to the guest room closet and pulled out the case which cradled Gustav’s violin.

A little over an hour later, Christine and Nadir sat together in his apartment over a freshly brewed pot of coffee. “So kid, are you and Erik ready for tomorrow?”

“I think so. He’s worked so hard. I haven’t heard anything of the other parts of his performance; he wouldn’t let me stay for those rehearsals. Guess he wanted it to be a surprise, and I understand why.”

“Been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?”

Christine chuckled, “It certainly has. I can’t really make sense of any of it.”

“I bet there’s one thing you can definitely make sense of: your feelings for Erik,” hinted Nadir as he watched Christine smile shyly and blush. “And I know he feels the same way.”

“How do you figure? Has he talked to you?”

Nadir laughed heartily, “Now now, don’t go assuming things. No, he hasn’t come to talk to me. But uh, let’s just say,” Nadir hesitated a moment, “Well let’s just say that if he did, I’d have no problem giving my blessing.”

“You talk in riddles, old man,” Christine tried to laugh it off in good jest but sincerely wondered if Erik might really ask for Nadir’s permission. She knew, deep in the pit of her soul, that Erik loved her.

“So,” Nadir said, breaking Christine from her thoughts, “why your dad’s violin?”

“I want Erik to have it tomorrow for his performance. I feel like this beautiful instrument needs and deserves to be played in such a way… the way dad played. The way Erik plays. Erik becomes the music. And every time Dad played this violin, he got lost in his own world of music. And with Erik playing Dad’s violin, I feel like Dad will be there with me, with us, for the performance of Erik’s lifetime.”

“Oh Chrissie, what a beautiful sentiment. I was happy to hold onto this for you as long as I did, and I know Gus would’ve given this to Erik for his performance tomorrow night,” Nadir grew sentimental. “I have to admit, I really like Erik, Christine. He balances you perfectly. And, well, I love seeing you two together.”

“That means a lot, Uncle Nadir. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The two fell into casual conversation about potential summer plans as well as Meg and Raoul’s wedding in August. Suddenly it dawned on Nadir, “Oh, I completely forgot to tell you! I got an email from Jeremy last week, checking in to see how we were doing.”

“Oh yeah? I haven’t been in touch with him, honestly. I’m kind of a jerk. How is he?”

“He’s good. I think he and his now wife, Emerson, will come back to the States soon. I can’t quite recall where they’ll settle upon their return.”

Christine simply nodded. _I owe him an email_.

“Well I guess I should get to the office to finish up some paperwork. What time do I need to get to the college tomorrow night?”

Christine hugged Nadir, “Probably 6:30. The parking garage is right behind the music building, and since it’s a weekend you won’t have to pay to park. And don’t forget, there’s a small get together at Meg and Raoul’s house around 9PM. Erik has a small reception around 8:30 with the faculty if his doctoral is confirmed, so we’ll probably get to Meg and Raoul’s a little after 9PM.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow, kid. I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tomorrow night.”

Christine secured Gustav’s treasured violin in her truck and began the drive back to Western Cypress. With the windows down, the wind blew through Christine’s hair as she listened to her music. _I’m ready; I love him, and tomorrow I’ll finally tell him_. She repeated this over and over to herself, and after each time her smile grew broader, her heart raced faster, and the more at peace she felt. Today was a good day; and tomorrow would be even better. Everything felt perfect, and everything was perfect. When she arrived back to her apartment, it was a little after dinner time and Erik still wasn’t back from the music building. She decided to order a pizza and texted Erik: _Got a pizza. Want me to save you some for later?_

A few more hours ticked by as Christine cleaned her apartment and started a movie. Still no response from Erik, but she knew he was feeling the pressure mounting for tomorrow. She decided to head to bed a little early.

It was Saturday, the day of the performance. The weather had changed significantly in just 12 hours. Unlike the crisp, clear day from yesterday, today the clouds hung dark and heavy. When Christine awoke at 7:00AM, it felt like dusk rather than dawn. Everything was quiet and so uncomfortably still. As she popped on The Weather Channel, a small pot of coffee brewed in the kitchen. Her phone chimed. _Good morning. I hope you slept well. I’m so sorry for not responding yesterday. How are you?_ She smiled at Erik’s ever present sincerity.

_Good morning, and don’t apologize. Want to join me for some coffee? Door will be open._

From the floor above, she heard the shuffling of feet and she laughed. Within seconds, a quiet knock on her front door caught her attention, and there he stood still in his pajamas. “What took you so long?” Christine teased.

“When an angel invites you for coffee, dare not delay. Good morning,” Erik smiled and placed a kiss on top of her head. Christine rolled her eyes as she handed Erik a mug. 

The two sat on the couch as the weatherman presented a less than optimal forecast. “The severe frontal system which moved across the Midwest yesterday has arrived in the mid-Atlantic region. Severe thunderstorm watches and warnings are already posted for much of Central Pennsylvania, west of Lancaster and farther north around the State College area.” The weatherman’s map showed deep red and light purple blobs of terrible weather. “I would anticipate that by this evening around dinner time for folks in Cypress, Delaware, Chester and the western parts of Bucks counties should reconsider all outdoor activities. The air this morning is incredibly humid and unstable, so as the heat rises, so will the chances for severe weather increase. Those in Lancaster County shouldn’t be surprised if the National Weather Service issues tornado warnings for your area.”

Erik shifted uncomfortably at the terrible forecast. “Humidity spells disaster for instruments in Asplundh Hall. They usually just crank up the air conditioning but the air remains too heavy and too cold. This could be a disaster.”

“None of that, don’t think about it. Everything is going to be just fine. Besides, I’ll be with you on stage so it can’t be all that bad.”

Erik hugged Christine close to his chest as she settled comfortably into his arms and smiled, “I can do anything with you by my side…”

# # #

By late afternoon, the sky had turned extremely ominous. As the weatherman promised, storms had been brewing and threatening in the distance all day. Now Mother Nature threatened to unleash fury. It was less than optimal, so Christine decided to drive and park Frakenbeast in the parking garage behind the music building instead of walking to campus.

# # #

It was finally here, and in just 45 minutes, Erik would escort Christine into the auditorium and onto the stage, in front of faculty, students, family, friends, orchestra, hand in hand with her by his side, about to bring his music to life. Erik fidgeted anxiously, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. He straightened his tuxedo jacket again and once more tightened his bow tie. He massaged the tight tendons of his long fingers to relax his hands. A gentle knocking sound made him quickly turn. The quiet swoosh of fabric glided into the room, the gentle tapping of shoes stepped inside, and Erik felt the air in his lungs completely disappear. She was a vision to behold. The deep, rich indigo gown set Christine’s emerald eyes aglow. The dress was perfect: sheer tulle overlay atop a full skirt flowing beauty in the air she carried about her. The indigo lace bodice was tastefully decorated with scattered sequins which caught the light perfectly with every graceful movement she made. An indigo overlay of sheer fabric provided perfectly sewn lace capped-sleeves. And her beautiful hair was gently pulled back into a loose chignon, with long tendrils of curls framing her face. Oh how she glowed. Her make-up was subtle but Erik could tell Christine felt as beautiful as she looked.

“Christine, I… you…” Erik’s mouth opened to speak but no words came out. He stuttered as his brain tried to formulate the words to express everything he saw her to be. “You’re gorgeous, enthrallingly stunningly breathtaking.” He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek. She blushed and took a slight step back and took in the sight of Erik. His tuxedo fit him immaculately. The lines of his tux were tailored in absolute perfection to the long lines of his body. His white mask stood out in pure contrast to the dark black suit; what was initially terrifying upon their first run-in with each other was now an object of beauty, of artistry, and, would she daresay of powerful sexiness. It took her breath away.

“Thank you, Erik,” she responded quietly. Their eyes met and she immediately felt a rush of all-consuming love. She fumbled over her words as the feeling overwhelmed her and brought goosebumps across her skin. “I, uh, I have something for you before we start warming up.” There in her hand, carried ever so gently was an antique violin case. Erik eyed it curiously. “I wanted to give this to you for your performance tonight.” Erik watched speechless as Christine placed the case on the piano bench and opened it carefully. “This was my Dad’s violin, and I felt that if you played it, his spirit would be with you tonight. You become the music, Erik; Dad became the music too.” 

“Christine,” Erik gasped, “is that… is that truly a Lindholm violin?”

She looked at him and smiled gently, feeling the moment sweep her up, “It is. I wish I knew more about how my Dad got this violin, but I do know it’s been handed down between generations on my Dad’s side of the family. Handcrafted in 1928 and a custom carved scroll.” As if he were stuck in a vacuum, the air in Erik’s lungs was immediately sucked out as Christine placed the beautiful instrument in his trembling hands. His long fingers caressed the perfectly carved curves and lines of the violin. He traced the strings along the fingerboard, through the neck, and finally following the meticulously custom-carved scroll.

Inexplicably, Erik began to silently cry as Christine placed her hand around his as he cradled the instrument. “Christine, I… I would be honored to play your father’s violin tonight. I feel him here, right now, in this small room. I am honored you are entrusting part of him with me. I lov-...” But his voice was cut off with a knock on the practice room door as Dr. Marrenesco entered. 

“I beg your pardon for the interruption, but I suggest we warm up voices and preliminarily tune with the orchestra. Scales and vocal exercises for 15 minutes then out to the auditorium. The orchestra will be ready in 20.”

“Thank you, Dr. Marrenesco,” Christine replied while Erik turned to dry his eyes. Again the two were left alone in the small room. Christine heard Erik release an uneven sigh and wrapped her arms around him from behind, “Let’s warm up.” Erik turned in her embrace and held her close. He felt something hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn’t quite describe this feeling, but it felt as if Gustav was there, holding them both in his arms and granting Erik his blessing. _Mr. Daae, with your blessing, I will ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. And with your blessing, I will ask Mr. Khan tonight. I love your daughter. I love her, more than music itself. Tonight, I will ask her to be mine, until death do us part._

“Let me tell you something, Kevin,” Aunt Sarah said point blank, “she owes you nothing. If anything, you owe her the biggest apology of your life! This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a game.”

She had changed. She wasn’t the meek, timid creature of her marriage with Craig. Since the divorce and her new found empowerment, Sarah was determined to make Kevin see the errors of his ways and behavior. He had spent too long learning how to terribly treat women; he was young and impressionable when Craig and Sarah married, so it was no surprise that Kevin learned from the best manipulators in the family.

“Perhaps; I’m still angry with how things happened,” Kevin admitted but still felt resentment swelling. Somehow he still felt Christine held half the blame. “Besides, I’ll probably get arrested if she saw me or if I tried to apologize. No point.”

“Then that’s on you. I love you, Kevin, you’re my nephew but I don’t have to like you. You need to make peace with yourself and with what you did. YOU did this; not Christine. I really liked her, but you screwed up. Be a man and own it.”

And with that, Sarah walked away and walked away from the entire Trickman family. You can’t fix what has always been ingrained for years; you can plant the seed, but it’s up to them to figure out what to do with it. Kevin never did hear from Sarah after her divorce from Craig; he grew to resent her which fueled his resentment towards Christine and the entire events of their relationship further. Almost to a point of obsession.

# # #

In the spring of 2007, Kevin found himself in the neighboring town next to Western Cypress. Despite not graduating from Western Cypress University after that fateful night, Kevin had procured himself an IT helpdesk position supporting an insurance company. He was miserable and hated everything about his job, his life, and his lot. Most of his friends and fraternity brothers had completely severed ties and affiliations with him after the accident and the trial. However, a few friends remained, mostly those who thought and lived in either a bubble or held the same bastardized beliefs regarding the world as him. Kevin had somewhat resolved to entertain the idea of owning the events so many years ago with Christine. He found himself on the precipice until Mike gave the announcement.

Kevin met Mike at a bar the Friday before finals week for a drink or two. “Hey Kev,” Mike waved as Kevin entered the bar and slid a beer to him at the bar.

“Hey thanks. How are ya, man?”

“I’m alright. How’s life?” he said despondently.

“Eh, ya know, dealing with shit. Kate and I just broke up,” Mike replied.

“Freaking females. Can’t trust them at all.”

“Well then you’ll love this,” Mike replied and slid a doctoral performance schedule for next week. “Doctoral student flaunters,” Mike hissed, “think they’re better than everyone else. Self-entitled asses. I have to go to one of them to meet on stupid class requirement.”

“Damn dude, what’s up your ass?” Kevin chided but he felt the same way. Nothing had gone right in his adult life since the accident. And that’s when two names stood out. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled under his breath. “Erik Destler, Christine Daae… are you fucking kidding me?!” he said even louder, drawing some curious stares from others around him.

“Yeah, Christine Daae… never thought we’d hear about her again, huh Kev?”

“Unbelievable. I should have known it was him. I knew she was cheating on me, but shit, with _him_? That masked freak who was there the night of the accident, who everyone claimed ‘saved her life,’” he said as the disdain and feelings of absolute betrayal seethed out of his pores.

“Wait, Erik Destler? He’s the guy?!” Mike asked, astounded. “I’ve never seen him before around campus, don’t know anything about him. Who is he?”

“ _HE_ is the one she was supposed to meet that night, I just know it. No wonder she came unraveled and got stupid while we were dating. That masked ass probably did something, said _anything_ , to convince her everything was wrong. I can’t believe this shit.” Kevin chugged back his beer and quickly asked for a shot of tequila, anything to numb the pain and the betrayal. “And she’s singing for him, with him… I never even heard her sing in the time we were together. What the fuck is going on…?” he trailed off as he threw back another shot. He harshly picked up the schedule again and glared at the names and then the date, “next Saturday, 7:00PM.”

# # #

He wasn’t quite sure what the plan was or why he even was attending Erik’s recital. Seriously, what was he really going to do? Storm onto the stage and demand answers? Wait for her after the concert and talk to her? And even if she saw him, would she run? Would she even listen? Would that fowl, loathsome wanna-be of a man brainwash her even more that _he_ was the answer to all her problems? He found an empty seat in the very last row in the back of the auditorium. He watched intently as he watched a former professor of his take the stage with opening remarks.

# # #

“Are you ready?” Erik asked. Christine nodded and felt her nervousness setting in. Erik sensed her body trembling as they walked down through the backstage area towards the stage. As they approached they saw the lights begin to lower and Dr. Marrenesco grabbed Erik’s hand for a handshake. “Thank you, Nikolai, for everything.” 

Nikolai brought Erik into his arms for a quick but strong embrace. “I’m so incredibly proud of you, son.” Erik released Nikolai and watched as he stepped out onto the stage towards the microphone.

“Erik?” Christine whispered, “I’m proud of you, too.” She let go of Erik’s hand and gently wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. “I’m so nervous…” Erik wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, perhaps it was the way the stage lights shone upon her face and gave her an ethereal glow, he leaned in to her, claiming her mouth with a devastating thoroughness. It was poetic as he cradled the antique violin in one arm and held his beloved in the other. Christine’s arms fell softly upon Erik’s shoulders, her hands lightly caressed his face. The kiss was deep, wanting, comforting; her nerves quickly stilled. _I love you, Erik; I love you, I love you_. They broke apart upon hearing Dr. Marrenesco’s voice begin the introductions. Christine noticed Erik’s mask had shifted slightly from their intensity so she reached up and readjusted his mask. They both chuckled shyly and blushed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I’m honored to introduce Mr. Erik Destler. This evening you will hear the degree requirements for Mr. Destler’s doctoral program in violin and composition. I’ve had the pleasure of serving as not just Erik’s advisor but also as a friend long before he began his college career. It’s been a remarkable journey to see the genius of his creativity take shape and take on a life of its own throughout these years at Western Cypress University. Erik and I haven’t quite seen eye to eye on much and have spent hours debating composers, nuances of classical composition, more often than not resulting in more grey hairs for me,” Nikolai chuckled along with the audience. Both Erik and Christine grew wide-eyed as they realized how packed the auditorium was. “And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I’m honored to introduce tonight, Mr. Erik Destler.”

Thunderous applause wrapped itself around Erik as the bright lights of the stage warmed him. This was the moment, the moment the world would hear his creativity and be brought to life for complete strangers. Whistles and hollers from the front row filled his ears as he chuckled, knowing the hooting and hollering was coming loudest from Meg and Raoul, their parents, and Nadir. What a perfect moment this was; and he never wanted to trade this moment for anything. “Good evening, and my sincerest thanks and appreciation for you coming tonight. The music you are about to hear tells a story: a story of birth, life, death, sorrow…” he paused and looked at each individual in his circle that he associated each of his next words to, “Of family,” he looked at Meg and Raoul and their parents. “Of friends who’ve become more,” he looked at Nadir. “Of mentors and colleagues,” he looked at the faculty members and motioned to Dr. Marrenesco who was seated with the orchestra with his cello. “And quite possibly most importantly, of peace, hope, and love,” and he looked to his right and locked eyes with Christine, whose eyes were sparkling with tears. She knew what he was saying: I love you, Christine. She blew him a soft kiss and placed her hands to her heart. Erik smiled broadly and knew what she was saying: I love you, Erik. “Faculty, friends, family, I am proud to present ‘Amore Senza Dolore: Una Sinfonia’... ‘Life Without Pain: A Symphony.’” With that, the conductor appeared on stage with applause and assumed his position on the podium, the pianist sat in front of the concert grand piano as Erik stood to the side near the microphone.

The gentle chords of the opening vocal piece serenaded the room in tenderness and Erik’s deep, dark baritone resounding in an astonishing, commanding echo:

_The day starts  
_ _The day ends  
_ _Time crawls by_

_Night steals in pacing the floor  
_ _The moments creep  
_ _Yet I can't bear to sleep  
_ _'Til I hear you sing_

_And weeks pass  
_ _And months pass  
_ _Seasons fly_

_Still you don't walk through the door  
_ _And in a haze  
_ _I count the silent days  
_ _Til I hear you sing once more_

_And sometimes at night time  
_ _I dream that you are there  
_ _But wake holding nothing  
_ _But the empty air_

_And years come  
_ _And years go  
_ _Time runs dry_

_Still I ache down to the core  
_ _My broken soul  
_ _Can't be alive and whole  
_ _'Til I hear you sing once more_

_And music, your music  
_ _It teases at my ear  
_ _I turn and it fades away  
_ _And you're not here_

_Let hopes pass  
_ _Let dreams pass  
_ _Let them die  
_ _Without you, what are they for?_

_I'll always feel  
_ _No more than halfway real  
_ _'Til I hear you sing once more_

She couldn’t breathe. Everything about him, his voice, his aura, exposing his soul to her and to everyone in the concert hall, she’d never witnessed nor felt anything like this before. “Please welcome, Ms. Christine Daae,” she heard Erik’s introduction and she felt panicked. _I can’t do this, I’m not ready for this. Erik, please…_ He must have known she was terrified, for within a few long strides, he reached out his hand and whispered, “Sing for me, Christine, let us make music.” It was all she needed to hear as he reassured her, “Just breathe, trust your voice. Become the music with me.”

Applause welcomed Christine to the stage as Erik sat before the piano. She looked at Erik and he nodded to her as she motioned to the conductor she was ready to begin. Christine stood like a Gretian goddess, the indigo gown sparkled and shined under the stage lights. The feeling was completely thrilling. She took a steadying breath as her lungs tingled with her song:

_I'm trying to hold my breath  
_ _Let it stay this way  
_ _Can't let this moment end  
_ _You set off a dream in me  
_ _Getting louder now  
_ _Can you hear it echoing?  
_ _Take my hand  
_ _Will you share this with me?  
_ _'Cause darling without you_

_All the shine of a thousand spotlights  
_ _All the stars we steal from the night sky  
_ _Will never be enough  
_ _Never be enough  
_ _Towers of gold are still too little  
_ _These hands could hold the world but it'll  
_ _Never be enough  
_ _Never be enough_

_For me  
_ _Never, for me  
_ _For me  
_ _Never enough  
_ _For me_

_All the shine of a thousand spotlights  
_ _All the stars we steal from the night sky  
_ _Will never be enough  
_ _Never be enough  
_ _Towers of gold are still too little  
_ _These hands could hold the world but it'll  
_ _Never be enough  
_ _Never be enough  
_ _For me_

_Never, for me  
_ _For me  
_ _Never enough  
_ _For me_

Erik watched her, enthralled with how her ethereal voice transcended the auditorium. Looking out into the darkened space, he could actually feel the energy coming from the audience. They hung on every note, every breath, every word escaping her throat. It was here and now that even these complete strangers caught a glimpse into the beautiful chaos of Erik’s soul. He held them captive, and the story and journey had only just begun. And now, a marriage of voices and souls, two becoming one. The captive audience craved more, and they craved to become the music with the artists before them:

Erik smiled as he breathed:  
_No more talk of darkness  
__Forget these wide-eyed fears  
__I'm here, nothing can harm you  
__My words will warm and calm you_

_Let me be your freedom  
_ _Let daylight dry your tears  
_ _I'm here, with you, beside you  
_ _To guard you and to guide you_

Christine took a steadying breath, held captive in Erik’s sight:  
_Say you love me every waking moment  
__Turn my head with talk of summertime  
__Say you need me with you now and always  
__Promise me that all you say is true  
__That's all I ask of you_

_Let me be your shelter  
_ _Let me be your light  
_ _You're safe, no one will find you  
_ _Your fears are far behind you_

A plea to Christine, pleading for her to have him by her side always, Erik sang:  
_All I want is freedom  
__A world with no more night  
__And you, always beside me  
__To hold me and to hide me_

And together, two became one:  
_Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime  
__Let me lead you from your solitude  
__Say you need me with you here, beside you  
__Anywhere you go, let me go too  
__Love me, that's all I ask of you_

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime  
_ _Say the word and I will follow you  
_ _Share each day with me, each night, each morning_

She felt her confession:  
_Say you love me,_

Erik responded, knowing everything they had spoke rang true:  
_You know I do_

And in poetic unison, voice met voice, soul crashed into soul, hearts beat as one:  
_Love me, that's all I ask of you_  
_Anywhere you go, let me go too  
__Love me, that's all I ask of you_

Thunderous applause. The sounds of seat folding uprights as bodies rose to their feet. Everyone that is, except one. One young man in the back of the auditorium who remained seated. One young man sitting there, scowling, cursing, seething palpable anger from every part of his body. Wrought with tension, betrayal, brokenness. The pain, the anguish, admitting there was absolutely no hope left for him. “How could she do this?” Kevin growled under his breath.

Christine kissed him, in front of everyone, kissed him thoroughly for everyone to see, confessing everything her heart and mind told her from the very first time she ever heard his voice: _I love you_. She whispered in his ear while embracing him, “You did it.” 

Erik choked back a sob, “ _We_ did it, Christine. And it’s only just begun.” He kissed her, and the two of them bowed. Erik escorted Christine off the stage before taking up Gustav’s violin and assuming his first chair violin seat with the orchestra. And so began the journey of Erik’s life as told through his music. It was dark and dangerous, uncomfortable as the tones of sadness, of brokenness poured out in pure raw emotion. As the symphony continued, hopefulness began to resound, a lightness. With every change of sound, Erik looked about to those who changed his world from darkness to light, bringing happiness, encouragement, and love to his life. As the final movement began, it started lighter than the others, but suddenly dropped back into the depths of despair and anguish. And that’s when Christine understood what this part meant: it told the story of the darkest night of their lives. The night their individual paths in life collided into one and when everything hung in the balance of ripping them away from each other forever.

Christine was breathless as she felt through Erik’s music as if she were reliving that night. Tears glistened as she listened intently and there, there it was… _his song_. The song he sang to her after pulling her from the wreckage. How did he manage to put that into his symphony? How could anyone be so incredibly gifted? His sound, the way he made his violin come to life, was so unique, and she could pick out every sound coming from him. He was the music, it was in him, it was his blood, the music gave him life, and now, in this very moment, she was the inspiration for bringing the music in his blood to life. And there, in the final minutes of his symphony, the music he composed was _her_ song. This was her; this is what he heard when he saw her. This all-encompassing sound was her. As the choir vocalized the melody, Erik’s violin rang clear and loud. And suddenly, the echo of his voice as he sang _and_ played at the same time, the repeating whispers, “Love’s an echo, love’s an echo.” It had always been there: his love for her. Her love for him. Their love for music.

The music stopped, the ending was abrupt bringing to understanding that his life and future were yet to be written, that indeed peace, love, and hope would offer an endless glimmer and light for what was to come. The audience was held captive, enthralled, breathless, until… there it was: deafening, clamoring applause. They felt it; they knew it… the beauty that had heard and felt and witnessed was a rare gift and they craved more. The orchestra stood and the maestro presented Erik forwarded for a final bow. As Erik returned upright, he extended his arm and beckoned Christine to his side. He kissed her hand as they bowed together.

As the crowded auditorium began to empty, Erik and Christine stayed behind on stage chatting with Meg and Raoul, their parents, and Nadir. Nikolai approached, “Erik, it’s time. Folks, we kindly ask for you to exit the auditorium so the review board can begin a review of Erik’s performance.”

“We’ll see you guys back at the house around 9:30 then?” Meg asked, hugging both Erik and Christine.

“Yes, and hopefully with good news,” Erik replied hesitantly.

“Erik, after what we all just witnessed, there’s no doubt what the outcome will be. I’m so incredibly proud of you. Well done,” Nadir said as he shook Erik’s hand and then hugged Christine.

“Love you guys, see you soon,” Christine said. Her and Erik watched as their family departed. “And then there were two,” she sighed nervously as she watched the faculty review board approach the stage.

“Mr. Destler, Ms. Daae,” Dean Piangi said with a very serious tone, “very well done this evening. I request you stay outside the auditorium and we will come retrieve you upon final decision.”

With that Erik and Christine walked up the aisle, hand in hand, and exited the concert hall. Once outside they were greeted with the heavy, humid air. Flashes of lightning set the night sky aglow and the sweet smell of a promising rain loomed. They stood underneath the beautiful arches of the great stone hall. It was all so surreal. “You know about the whispering arches, don’t you?” Erik asked out of nowhere.

“Whispering arches?”

“Come with me,” he said as he took her hand and led her down a short ways to the front of the building. “This is the whispering archway. Stand right here and put your ear up to this hollowed out part.” Christine did as she was instructed and watched Erik stand on the other side of the arch and whispered into the carving, “Thank you for everything. You were perfect.”

Christine’s jaw dropped as Erik’s voice traveled along the canyon of stone and whispered into your ear and smiled. “You were perfect; everything was… everything is perfect.”

This was it, this was the moment he’d be waiting all night for and whispered into the canyon, “I love you, Christine. I love you; I have always loved you; and I will love you always.”

“Erik, I lo-...”

“Dr. Destler, Ms. Daae, we’re ready for you,” Dr. Marrenesco said with a serious tone. This was his favorite part, and he noticed neither Erik nor Christine caught the title. “On the stage please,” he said as Erik and Christine walked ahead of him. As they stood on the stage, they looked to the front row of seated faculty, stone-faced and serious.

“Now, Dr. Destler,” said Dean Piangi, “your symphony was…”

“Wait, _doctor_?” Erik blurted out. The panel of faculty erupted with cheers and laughter as Erik watched in stunned silence as Nikolai ran up to the stage.

“Congratulations, Erik. Your work has been officially evaluated and accepted by the College of Music. Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present, Dr. Erik Destler, on his successful evaluation for his doctoral program.”

“Oh my God, ERIK!” Christine shouted and ran into Erik’s arms. He lifted her with ease and whirled her around in his arms. Laughter, cheers, tears of joy echoed in the empty hall. Erik carefully packed Gustav’s violin away as he and Christine made their way for the quick reception with the review board.

The reception was joyous and simple, and not before too long, it was time to head to Meg and Raoul’s with the good news. By the time they had exited Asplundh Hall, the heavens had finally opened up and released a torrential downpour. Thunder cracked and rattled the windows as Mother Nature unleashed her anger upon the earth. “Good thing I drove,” Christine chuckled as her and Erik made a run for it to the parking garage. “I’m up on Level 3,” she said as they pushed the elevator button. They waited… and waited… and waited some more. “Go figure, we gotta take the stairs and I’m in heels.”

“Want me to carry you?” Erik teased.

“Ha, no, you carry that violin as if your life depended on it,” she teased back as they turned to make their way up the stairwell to the third parking level. “We should call Meg and tell her we’re on our way.”

“I’ll call her now,” Erik said and pulled out his phone.

An odd feeling crept its way into Christine… this felt uncomfortably familiar, too familiar. Something didn’t feel right. She jumped as the stairwell door above them slammed closed and heavy, pounding footsteps drew closer. A deafening crack of thunder drowned out the shocked gasp from Christine. “Chris!” her name echoed off the cold concrete walls from the ever familiar, ever terrifying voice.

“No,” she whimpered. 

“Erik? Hello… Erik?” Megs’ voice echoed on Erik’s phone as his eyes met Kevin’s. “What the hell are you doing here?” Erik demanded. 

“This doesn’t concern you, freak!” Kevin shouted.

“Like hell it doesn’t. Leave. Now,” Erik growled. “You are not welcome here. Turn around and leave.”

“Kevin, no!” Christine cried as the all too familiar threat of physical violence came bearing down on them as Kevin punched Erik and shoved him with an unbelievable force as his growls and seething anger came clawing out.

Erik stumbled backwards and lost his footing as his body tumbled downward with nauseating sounds of scraping flesh and a blood curdling crack of bone. Erik hit the concrete landing below with a heavy, loud thud. Christine whirled around to try and get to Erik, but Kevin grabbed her arms with such brute force her skin rubbed raw within his tight grip. “What, need to rescue that… that… creature? STOP FIGHTING ME!”

“LET ME GO! STOP IT!” she screamed, her throat burned. Her body hit hard as Kevin slammed her against the wall of the landing slightly above where Erik’s twisted body lay motionless. “ERIK!” she screamed louder. He wasn’t moving, she couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. Blood ran down his face, his mask shattered and broken into scattered pieces around him. “ERIK!”

“Stop calling out his NAME! Just shut up and listen to me!” Kevin screamed into her face. Her eyes shot back to the hellfire demon before her. “Just shut up; why do you call his name? Is he really _that_ to you? You’re sick, shoulda known that’s what you’d want. DAMN IT, CHRIS!!”

“Erik? Christine? Hello?! Answer me?!?!” Megs’ voice screaming from Erik’s phone laying on one of the steps. “ERIK?!”

She couldn’t cry, there was no point. No one was coming to save her. She had to fight, she had to fight harder than ever before. “What do you want?” she whispered as Kevin’s vice grip on her arms tightened harder. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up! Just shut up! Just…” Kevin’s voice broke as shuffling sounds of the creature below them began to move and grow conscious again.

“Erik! Erik?! Are you alright?!” Christine watched as Erik’s eyes struggled to flutter open. He tried to move but cried out in pain.

“Christine…” Erik choked out, “run…”

Boisterous, condescending laughter, “Run, Christine, yeah, run where?” Kevin seethed and he slammed her body against the wall again. “Do you love him, Christine? Do you? DO YOU LOVE HIM?!” he shouted, demanding the answer he already knew. Christine looked frantically between Kevin and Erik, her breathing ragged with pain, Kevin’s vice grip ripping the fragile fabric of her gown, her hair coming wildly undone, the make-up on her face smearing from the struggling, the fighting, the crying. “Look at me, not at him! DO YOU LOVE HIM?!” Christine locked eyes with Erik, who held her captive despite the open wounds bleeding on his face. 

A whimper escaped her lips as her eyes met Kevin’s and said just loud enough for her voice to echo in the empty, concrete stairwell, “He held my heart long before you ever did; and I love him more than I ever loved you.” A sudden burst of anger from within gave Christine the strength to rip herself free from Kevin’s grip. Without second thought, her hands gripped and ripped and dug her fingernails under the exposed, sensitive flesh Kevin’s arms. He yelled out in pain as Christine felt his flesh lodged under her nails. Kevin tried to wrench free from the razor-sharp pain but Christine refused to let go. They lost their footing and tumbled chaotically down the steps, their bodies knocking into each other as Christine refused to loosen her grip. The sounds of ripping fabric of her now torn gown, the sounds of scraping flesh against concrete, and the sound of Kevin's body landing hard upon the cold floor as Christine fell on top of him. Kevin’s head slammed against the wall, knocking him unconscious. Christine loosened her grip as her now balled up fists landed blow after blow upon his chest and his face. She couldn’t acknowledge the immensely excruciating pain radiating through her fists, hands and arms as they met the helpless flesh of her once lover beneath her. Her grunts rapidly became tired, weak, and exhausted.

“Christine…” Erik whispered in pain, his voice faltering, “Christine, stop… no more… please stop. Christine… enough.” He struggled to move, his body and shoulder screaming in agony but he had to stop her. Crawling painfully slow, blood dripping from his head and face, “Christine, please stop, you don’t want to do this. You don’t want to kill him…”

Christine flashed a furious, maddened, psychotic look at Erik, who suddenly drew back in fear. Who was this woman before him? “I want,” she grunted, “I want him to feel what I do… I want to see him bleed. He doesn’t deserve to live.” 

“That’s not for you to decide, Christine… don’t do this. You don’t want his blood on your hands. There’s no coming back if you do.”

Something deep came rioting up from the darkest corner of her soul. It was the constant companion of grief, of anger finally exorcised itself after all these years. The wailing scream escaping her throat echoed heartbreakingly upon the cold concrete. It was full wailing as she screamed just inches above Kevin’s mangled face. Christine’s wailing scream froze Erik in his spot, a wail that encompassed all their pain, all their heartache, all the hauntings of their pasts. Erik made to move closer but Christine quickly cowarded away from him, from his touch, from his presence. She scrambled awkwardly on her cut hands and knees up a few steps and collapsed on herself, bringing her knees hard to her chest. She sat rocking, the ever familiar dark tunnel that was the pathway into her deepest, darkest thoughts quickly devoured her until the light was gone.

“Christine, please… don’t go there, please come back,” Erik pleaded as the sounds of sirens became louder and louder. “Christine, say something… anything. Christine? Christine, please? I’m not giving up on you… say something… Christine…”

The echo of a man’s voice rang out, “Let me through! Let me through! Those are my kids in there! Get out of the way! CHRISTINE?! ERIK?!”

“Mr. Khan, please… wait! We need to secure the premises first… Mr. Khan!!”

Shouting voices. Urgent, heavy footsteps. Finally silence. Panting breaths and a gut wrenching plea, “Oh God, no…”


	23. Forgiveness, Redemption, and Grace (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's been a while. Life has been unbelievably difficult the past 2 months, but thank you for hanging in there and patiently waiting. For this chapter, you will notice it is substantially shorter than my usually much longer chapters within this story. However, I didn't want this chapter to get too long-winded so as not to lose the attention of the reader. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. There are 2 chapters remaining for this story and maybe a short epilogue to close out this year-long journey. Thanks.

**Chapter 23: Forgiveness, Redemption, and Grace, Part I**

He wasn't sure how long he'd been parked on the side street, hardly knowing the reason why he drove here. Two months since it happened. Two months without a word. Two months without a single phone call or text. Two months being the recipient of her crushing silence and her heartbreaking absence.

Every morning was the same, a terrible repetition of habit and mind-numbing routine. Wake up. Stare at the blank white ceiling, watching the ceiling fan blades swirling in a hypnotizing sphere. Listen intently for any sound from the apartment below, disproving that it was empty. Steep hot tea and sit blankly before the piano, fingers and hands wanting to create but no music would come. Scroll idly through old photos and a multitude of old text messages. Then apprehensively look through the photos from that night. Pictures the police had taken of the crime scene. Pictures of the injuries sustained. Sights landing upon the last photo from the recital: the two of them together, embracing on the stage immediately after the performance. Love, happiness, laughter, family: all the things he had ever wanted in his life were finally his that night. Until it was all violently ripped away.

It was the day before Independence Day, and there Erik sat in the used car he bought just a few weeks after graduation. He lost count of how many times he attempted to get out of the car and walk up to the apartment building and asked to be buzzed up. _What am I doing here?_ He questioned after slamming the car door shut. _Just go up there. The worst thing that happens is you're kicked to the curb_. "Fine," Erik mumbled to himself and opened the car door once again. It was a familiar walk but usually one with Christine by his side. But this walk felt different, because it _was_ different. She wasn't here. As Erik's finger traced over Nadir's name and over the buzzer, he froze. "What's the use?" he mumbled and began walking back to his car. Sure they had sent a few messages the days following the attack, but as the recovery process began to take hold, communication fell off by the both of them rather quickly. One thing, however, was for certain: the concern for her emotional and mental well-being was heavy.

Christine responded with canned replies to text messages in the immediate days following the attack. Everyone noticed that after a week, she stopped responding altogether. And when she did, the responses were always the same: _I'm ok. Thank you for checking_. She wasn't fine. She wasn't ok. She wasn't even responding to Nadir's texts and phone calls. About a month after the attack, as interviews with the police were still happening, Erik called Nadir practically in tears. "Mr. Khan, I'm so sorry for everything. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Erik, it's ok. Breathe," Nadir tried to lighten the sorrow with a chuckle but released a shaky sigh instead. "It's not your fault, Erik."

"Is she…" he swallowed hard. "Have you... ?" Erik grew more exasperated as words failed him.

Another sigh and Erik heard Nadir's voice crack. "I honestly don't know, Erik. She's been very silent. I try to check in on her but it's always the same delayed response saying she's fine, but…"

"She's not, is she?"

Erik reached the sidewalk, replaying the phone conversation over and over in his head. After that phone call, Erik felt it best to give Nadir space and time. Time supposedly heals all wounds; but these new wounds, would they ever heal at all?

A quiet voice from behind gradually grew more audible, "I really wish you would've let me pick you up from the airport instead of taking transit. The Philly airport isn't really the friendly-... Erik?" Erik turned to find Nadir walking next to a very handsome young man toting an Army green duffle on his back. "Erik, is that you?"

Erik swallowed hard to clear the lump in his throat, shielding his masked face away from the young man beside Nadir. "I'm sorry, Mr. Khan, I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have intruded. Forgive me, sir." Erik quickly stepped off the curb and fumbled with his keys when he felt a firm hand rest upon his shoulder.

"Wait, wait, Erik." Erik turned to find Nadir standing incredibly close, eyes red and burning with tears. "I'm really glad you're here."

"You are?"

"Yes, I am, but uh, she's not here, Erik" Nadir replied and extended a handshake. Erik nodded, already knowing she was gone. He peered over Nadir's shoulder at the young man standing on the sidewalk, a gentle look upon his face. "Erik, this is Jeremy Loughlin. Jeremy, Erik Destler."

A thud from the duffle bag hit the sidewalk as Jeremy released the straps and extended a hand towards Erik. "So, you're Erik Destler," he said gently with a smile, "I've heard so much about you, and it's a great pleasure to finally meet you." Erik hesitantly accepted the gesture and nodded.

"Forgive me, but how… do you know who I am?"

"Looks like we have a lot of catch up on. Come on inside, gentlemen," Nadir said as he ushered Erik and Jeremy up to the apartment building.

Once inside the apartment, Erik sat at the couch opposite of Nadir and Jeremy, fidgeting nervously with the velcro straps of his wrist brace, yet another tangible reminder of the attack. He heard Jeremy chuckle quietly and looked up to find this man eyeing him thoughtfully, "You fidget like Christine does, yet another similarity between you two."

Just the sound of her name made Erik wince in pain. This was torture. Who was this man, and how is it that he knew Christine and Nadir so well? Nadir must have noticed as he placed cups of cold water on the coffee table and sat down. "I apologize, Erik, I didn't realize you'd be here today. I know you're racking your brain trying to put this puzzle together. You already know that after the trial, we moved to Tucson. That's where we met Jeremy."

The story unfolded before Erik as he listened intently and hung on every detail. He watched Jeremy carefully as he added details and his role in their lives. And that's when it dawned on Erik: the video Liliana sent to him. The fuzzy, low quality video from a coffee shop of Christine singing. The young man at the piano was Jeremy. The pieces started coming together, and the history of the lost years of his beloved unfolded. It was starting to make sense.

"So when Nadir called me two weeks ago, I knew I had to come. Him and Christine are like family. Emmi, my wife, knows everything, too, so she practically pushed me out the door to get me here," Jeremy said, looking at Nadir who smiled sadly. "I'm relieved we've been back from our mission trip so I could be here now."

"I'm relieved you're here, too, Jeremy. My concern for her has been growing unbearable, and she's been in complete silence for too long. She hasn't been responding to calls or texts. And I've been very apprehensive about just showing up to the house unannounced, but I think it's time," Nadir confessed.

Erik swallowed a gulp of the cold liquid. "Is that where she is? The house in the woods?"

Nadir nodded in affirmation then shook his head regrettably. The war was brewing deep within him and his anger was palpable. He stood from the recliner and staggered to the balcony doors, his fists balled with tension. An abrupt crack of his hand smacked the wall and the young men heard the audible growl, "Son of bitch!" He slid the sliding door closed behind him and grabbed his pipe from the table on the balcony. Plumes of grey smoke slithered around his body. Erik immediately crumbled into himself, feeling that Nadir's anger was aimed at him.

Jeremy observed and carefully added to Erik, "It's not you, his anger is not at you. He blames himself, not you." Erik glared at Jeremy. How could he know? He wasn't there! He wasn't there the first time, experiencing the whole damn accident, minute by minute, second by second, and the reckoning thereafter. And he wasn't there this time either, and he wasn't the recipient of the violence nor the heartache. "Is there something you want to tell me, Erik? There's more to your story than I've been told. Tell me what happened."

Erik exploded with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are? You know NOTHING!" He paced like a caged tiger. "And don't you dare give me 'everything happens in God's timing' shit either, dear Chaplain. After EVERYTHING she has been through, everything I myself have been through, do NOT presume to tell me about HOPE. The only hope right now is death." He staggered angrily towards the front door, wanting to escape when a thunderous voice behind him froze him in his tracks.

"ERIK! Stop right there," Nadir commanded. "You're not leaving. And I cannot bear to have another kid of mine disappear and vanish into the wind. I simply cannot bear it."

"Sir, you speak in riddles," Erik seethed under his breath. "And I am not a child; I am no one's child." He began to crumble once again, all those horrific memories from those terrible years of his youth smashing into the present like a speeding truck losing control on a lonely and deserted highway. "No more, no more, no more," he whispered repeatedly under his breath, willing the memories away, his body shook with anger and sorrow and hatred. The burdens he carried, taking the responsibility of the actions of the others, were crushing him downward worse than at any other point in his life. His bones ached; his heart ripped open with blood spilling out. Choking on the knot deep within his throat. His wrist burned as he caught his weight to prevent his body from collapsing onto the floor. "No more, no more…"

Nadir was at his side, at a loss on what to do. "It's alright, son, it's ok."

"How can you possibly say that? I am no one's son, not after what I am and what I've become." The tears began to fall. "Nadir, I loved her. I love her, I love her. I wanted to ask for your permission to marry her, but I failed both of you yet again. I failed you the first time, and I've continued to fail you. Oh God!" Tears he could no longer hold back escaped and flooded his face. He collapsed into Nadir's embrace. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" he stuttered out between his sobs.

"It's ok, shhh, it's ok. My boy, it's ok," Nadir comforted while his own tears poured out.

Jeremy sat in stillness, his own emotions cutting through his usually stoic facade. He pressed his folded hands to his forehead and whispered a small prayer. "Lord, I humbly come to you now, fill me with the Holy Spirit. Let your love and truth and forgiveness guide my words. Give me strength and wisdom in this hour of need. Father please be with us. I pray for your healing today. Be with Erik, be with Christine, and be with Nadir as they face a painfully difficult road ahead. In your ever loving name, to your grace and honor. Amen."

Erik looked at Jeremy in utter shock, "Who do you think you are… offering pointless pleas to a God who never listens, who never cares, who permits horror and evil and terror? How dare you?!"

Jeremy simply turned and locked onto Erik's eyes. Instead of offering a look of anger and insult, Erik was shocked to see kindness, gentleness, and sadness. "Because we live in such a broken world, Erik, a world that has abandoned God, relying on its own power to rule over good and evil. You're not the first to ask those questions, and you will not be the last. If you permit me, I want to hear your story, Erik. I know you've been holding on to a past of pain. I'm here…"

"What, as a chaplain? A pastor?" Erik spat back.

"No, as a friend; as a brother," Jeremy offered with an outstretched hand. "Let's start from the beginning," he said as they sat with a collective sigh.

Erik took a shaky breath, "Alright."

* * *

"Those are my kids, let me through! Move, damn it!" Nadir yelled through gritted teeth. He pushed his way through to find Erik crumpled on the cold concrete wincing in pain, deep cuts up on his unmasked face. His eyes panned the scene to find an unconscious Kevin lying completely still, his face splattered with blood. Glistening sparkles caught his peripheral and his head suddenly turned and found a small creature cowering in fetal position a few steps above the carnage. Her hands covered in deep bruises and coated with blood, blood trickling a deep cut on her head; but the most startling appearance was how frail she looked, her usually brilliant emerald green eyes had lost their glow and became lifeless. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to appear from nowhere. But it was the distant, lost look of her eyes that made Nadir stop cold.

"She's in shock," Nadir muttered. But no one was helping her. "She's in shock, damn it, someone HELP HER!" Paramedics jumped in as Nadir shifted focus to Erik who attempted to stand but immediately fell back onto the floor. "Erik, be still, don't move, it's gonna be ok…"

"I'm so sorry, oh Nadir, I'm so sorry… I'm so… dizzy," Erik stuttered.

"Shhh, be still," Nadir soothed. "I need help over here!" More paramedics shuffled through the chaos and attended to Erik. Nadir watched helplessly as Erik was placed on the gurney.

"Stay with her," Erik pleaded as they wheeled him out to the ambulance on the street below . Nadir stood watch as the paramedic lifted Christine onto the gurney. Her eyes never came into focus, turned downward in a lost and foreign stare. Her eyelids blinked achingly slow, never making eye contact with anyone around her.

# # #

"Because you lost consciousness, we would like to admit you overnight for observation. The hairline fracture, from what we can see from the scans, is extremely minor but you will have discomfort for a few weeks. We can send you home tomorrow with a cane for stability," the doctor in the ICU rattled off methodically to Erik. "We'll get the nurse in here to set the cast on your wrist."

Erik couldn't care less about his diagnosis. The only thing he wanted to hear was an update on Christine. No one could tell him anything. "Nadir?" Erik called out as he watched the man frantically pass by, searching. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of Erik's voice.

"Oh Erik, thank God I found you," Nadir said as he walked in. "How are you, son? Are you ok?"

"They need to keep me overnight since I lost consciousness after the fall. Hairline fracture on my pelvis, broken wrist." He fell into a shy quietness before asking the inevitable, "How is she?"

The look on Nadir's face swept downward in worry, "Thankfully no broken bones. A few deep cuts needing stitches, scrapes and bumps and bruises, some worse on her hands and arms but they say she might be able to go home tonight."

"Might?"

"She's… not really saying much. She asked me to leave the room when the police came in to ask her questions."

* * *

It was a collective release of breath as Nadir and Jeremy sat utterly still, not daring to say a word as Erik brought a shaking palm to his temple and pressed it firmly to find some relief from the pounding headache. His face wet from his tears. "And now, here I am, sitting with a man who sees me as a son and another man who sees me as…"

"As a brother," Jeremy quickly yet calmly filled in the sentence.

"What should I do now? Tell someone else? Apologize and offer myself up?" Erik asked, looking to Nadir for advice and counsel.

"Honestly, Erik? I doubt that was the end result because if it was indeed, then they would have found you. I don't believe you have blood on your hands," Nadir responded and looked to Jeremy.

"I think you already know what you need to do. Make amends and extend forgiveness to your mother. It's the only way for you to find peace. I can help you if you want, but most importantly, lean on Him and sincerely ask for His guidance. It's not your fault, however, the only way to move forward is to grant forgiveness because He has already forgiven you," Jeremy offered.

"I hate that you're right," Erik replied with a sad chuckle.

With a sigh, Nadir stood and went to the bedroom. When he returned, he held a very small box in his hand. "Erik, come out on the balcony with me please." Erik swallowed nervously as he sat down beside Nadir. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the sweet smell of rain perfumed the earth. He placed the small box in Erik's hand and watched him open it carefully. There, sparkling up at him, was a three-stone diamond ring. Erik snapped his eyes up and locked on to Nadir's. He was speechless. "Three stones," Nadir began, "past, present, and future. This was Marie's engagement ring, Christine's mother. Before Gus died, he made me promise to give Marie's engagement ring to the young man who I deemed worthy of our girl." Tears glistened his eyes as Erik choked back on his own tears. "You have my permission and my blessing. And through me, you have both Gus's and Marie's permission and blessing, too," Nadir finally said and held Erik's hand. "When the time is right, you'll both know it."

It was well past midnight when the three men welcomed slumber. As Erik laid awake on the living room couch, he stared at the ceiling watching the raindrops reflect from the streetlights below. The precious ring held gently between his fingers as he watched the diamonds dance in sparkles in the soft light. He glanced over to the digital clock on the oven and sighed. "Forgiveness, redemption… and grace," he whispered as he got up and grabbed a few blank pieces of paper. He sat at the dining room table and began to write.

# # #

Morning came quickly and the Independence Day sunrise blasted hot light into the guest room where Jeremy awoke. The smell of coffee wafted strongly from the kitchen. He opened the bedroom door and observed Nadir sitting at the table, reading intently from the paper before him. "Nadir, is everything alright?" Jeremy asked.

Nadir handed Jeremy the letter Erik had written. _Please give this to Christine when you see her. I hope and pray she will find the answers she deserves from me. I'll be in touch in a few days. Thank you both for being the family I now know I deserve. All my love, Erik._

"So," Jeremy concluded, "we go to see Christine then? Tomorrow?"

"No," Nadir reflected, "we go today."


	24. Forgiveness, Redemption, and Grace (Part 2)

**Chapter 24: Forgiveness, Redemption, and Grace, Part 2**

By 4:00PM the sun was unmercifully hot and the humidity sweltering. Donning her wide-brimmed woven hat upon her head, Christine downed a few large gulps of ice water from the two gallon jug before picking up the shovel and digging once more into the rather depleted mound of steaming, hot mulch.  _ Scraaaaape _ scratched shovel along the pavement of the driveway.  _ Clank plop _ the mulch responded as it hit the metal trailer. A repetition of scrape, clank and plop continued until the last of the mulch piled to the top of the trailer. With a grunt, Christine tossed the heavy shovel into the grass and sat on the riding mower, carefully maneuvering the small hitched trailer behind to the last flower bed at the far corner of the front yard.

_ Clank, scrape, plop, swish _ . The mulch whispered against dirt, flowers, and gloved hands as Christine knelt against the ground, spreading every last piece around the bushes and flowers. It had taken almost five full days of digging and shoveling and driving the tractor around the entire yard, back and front, for the landscaping to be completed. “This definitely went a lot faster when Dad and Nadir helped,” she grunted to herself as she stood up to stretch her back. “That’s the last of it,” she said aloud to the tall trees as she turned to survey the fruits of her labor. It was beautiful. Day lilies, hydrangea bushes, pachysandra, and massive rhododendron bushes filled the multiple flower beds around the entire house.  _ Stop standing still or you’ll have to face your problems, Chris _ . Her mind screamed at her and her body jerked into motion.  _ No stopping, keep busy. Don’t think. Don’t remember. _ Christine loaded up the scattered garden tools and shovels into the trailer and drove the mower back to the shed.  _ No stopping, keep busy. Don’t remember _ .

* * *

“They’re keeping Erik overnight,” Nadir said quietly as they drove off the hospital campus. In a large plastic bag sitting on the front seat between them was the now torn and ripped and ruined indigo gown and broken high heeled shoes. Nadir glanced over at the multiple bandages and the stitched and bruised face of Christine, now wearing a pair of scrubs given to her by one of the nurses who sewed her sutures. The only thing on her feet were the non-slip socks. Nadir cleared his throat, “I guess mostly because of the concussion, but everything seems mild. I think it’s just a precaution.” Silence. “Meg and Raoul decided to stay at the hospital until Erik gets settled. Meg said she’d call you tomorrow.”

Christine’s finger pushed the button to roll the window down all the way. The rain had stopped but thunder still rumbled and flashes of lightning still lit the late night sky, debris littered the streets and sidewalks after the severe storms. Flooding on some side streets. Lots of damage left in the storm’s wake.  _ How fitting _ , Christine scoffed to herself as she rested her head on her arm, feeling the wind hit her skin, blowing her hair in small, chaotic twists. Nadir slowly pulled up to the curb outside of Christine’s apartment. She looked up at the darkened building. “I can stay, Christine, or we can turn around and you can sleep at my apartment,” Nadir offered.

“No,” her voice hoarse and tired.

“No to me staying or no to coming home?”

“Both.” She glanced at Nadir who stared at his folded hands in his lap. “I’m ok. I think… I need some time.”

“Ok, if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Nadir helped Christine up the wet brick steps and unlocked the door. Turning on the small foyer light, the room filled with a gentle yellow glow. “Do you need anything?” Nadir asked as Christine placed her destroyed gown on the floor.

“I just need to go to bed.” 

Nadir nodded and tucked Christine into bed. Her eyes grew heavy as he placed a kiss upon her forehead. “I love you so much, Christine. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow, ok?” She nodded and closed her eyes.

# # #

She startled awake as a loud crack of thunder shook the windows. Mother Nature threatened to unleash fury again upon the earth, but ironically, like Christine, the raindrops of tears refused to come. Only the ominous sounds of anger rumbled deep within. Christine laid completely still, staring at the blank white ceiling, watching the ceiling fan whirl in its persistent unyielding circle. A bright flash followed by an immediate crack of thunder again rattled the windows. Her body ached, her head throbbed and her ankles cracked as she shuffled out of bed and stretched. Everything hurt, even the slightest touch to the skin was splintering. She walked down the short hallway to the living room and stood to take in the uncomfortable heavy silence. Lightning again, but this time it illuminated a framed picture of her and Erik. She sighed.

Christine went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The light was blinding as she stood and stared. She hadn’t gone grocery shopping in forever; it was completely empty except for a half-empty container of milk, some creamer, some lunchmeat, a few condiments, and an old leftover pizza she and Erik shared a few nights ago. She took everything out and put it all on the counter. She opened the freezer - empty except for the ice cube trays. She opened the cabinet underneath the sink and began moving the refrigerator items to a garbage bag. The last of the milk and creamer splashed into the sink and circled down the drain. Into the trash bag they went.

She looked around the living room. There really wasn’t much hanging on the walls. One painting, one framed poster, a few pictures. Down they came into a pile on the couch. She gathered all the sheet music and music books and shoved them into an overstuffed folder. Christine went to her bedroom and pulled out two large rolling suitcases and Gustav’s old duffle bag from his Army days. Eventually, all her clothes, toiletries, towels, shoes, and knick knack items were packed away and placed next to the growing pile of belongings in the living room. She slid on her sneakers, grabbed the keys to Frankenbeast and gingerly limped down the sidewalk towards the campus.

The parking garage was a beacon in the dark, damp night with its lights brightly shining behind the music building. Her body shook seeing discarded police caution tape. She stood for a long time staring at the washed off remnants of blood stains on the concrete landing at level three. Bile threatened to bubble up from her stomach, but somehow she willed it away as she turned to where the truck had remained. It roared to life, and the clanking of the muffler echoed too loudly as she drove out of the garage. She kept the truck running as she dragged the trash can from the side of the apartment to the sidewalk. One by one, step by step, she loaded her belongings into the truck. 

Christine had reached the house in the woods as the sun began to peak over the horizon and welcome a new day. With the truck parked in the garage, doors to the house locked, blinds and curtains pulled closed over the windows, Christine collapsed onto her bed and wept until she exhausted herself to sleep.

* * *

Christine backed the small trailer up the short ramp into the shed and pushed it vertical to lean against the wall. As she emerged from the shed to back in the riding mower, a blinding glare at the end of the driveway caught her attention. She bit her lower lip as she watched Nadir’s car pull in slowly. Taking her gardening gloves off and turning the mower off, she took a few steps forward, a faint smile on her face. She stopped dead in her tracks as she watched a very familiar young man emerge from the passenger side of the car. A knot immediately clogged her throat and gasped as Jeremy wrapped his arms around her tight. “Oh my God,” she sobbed in his arms, “what are you doing here?!” She hugged him so incredibly hard.

“Hey girl,” Jeremy whispered back. He stepped back from the embrace to take in the sight of his friend. She looked different. Older. Tired. Empty. Then he saw it. “What’d you do to your hair?”

Christine pulled off the hat and Nadir’s mouth fell open. “You cut your hair! It looks…”

“Terrible?” 

“No, not at all, no. It looks good; just different,” Nadir added. Christine’s normally waist-long brown curls were now lopped off and just barely fell below her shoulders. Her skin was tinted bright pink with sunburn on her bare shoulders and arms. The rest of her was sunkissed and a few shades darker from the time she had spent under the blazing summer sun. The furious pace in manual labor gave her more defined features of toned muscle. She seemed healthy on the outside. But both Nadir and Jeremy could see the war raging behind her darkened eyes, which Nadir knew the glow had dulled and faded the night of the attack. “Come here and give this old geezer a hug,” Nadir said as Christine wrapped her arms around her godfather. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I know,” she sighed.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Nadir said, gently holding Christine’s face in his hands. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I know,” she said, feeling the pangs of guilt for keeping everyone she loved at arm’s length for the past two months.  _ It’s better that way. Keeps them safe since I bring nothing but pain to those I love _ . Her body froze as the feelings and thoughts she had been stuffing away and running from came bubbling up like a geyser.  _ Stop remembering! _ Survival mode kicked in, “Gosh I’m a sweaty mess . I was going to order some Chinese food for dinner if you and Jeremy want to head into town to pick it up, and I’ll get cleaned up.”

Nadir and Jeremy conceded and got back in the car as they watched Christine put everything back in the tool shed and headed back inside the house. “She’s running on fumes, nothing but survival mode for her right now. I think this might get heated tonight,” Jeremy reluctantly observed.

“It must be done.”

# # #

“I don’t think any of this is fair,” Christine scoffed.

“And you think it was fair to up and leave without saying a word to anyone about where you were going?” Nadir retorted. “You didn’t respond to anyone for nearly three days.” Once again Christine wrestled with the pangs of crushing guilt. Deep down she knew Nadir was right, of course he was. But she had been so good at running, she’d been running since Gustav died. Emotionally and spiritually she was positively spent. But running had become such a constant survival mode so she didn’t have to face whatever this feeling really was. “I knew you were here, but it’s the fact that we couldn’t reach you. Erik was worried sick. You didn’t even bother finding out what he was going through. He needed you, and you needed him. You needed all of us, both of you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s been a long day. I think it best we all get some rest and perhaps continue the conversation when minds and bodies and spirits are refreshed,” suggested Jeremy. The conversation was turning more into a prosecution. He knew Nadir wanted nothing more than simple answers, and no matter which angle he approached his line of questioning, it was getting them nowhere.

# # #

Christine couldn’t sleep. Her mind churned over the memories of Arizona, of Jeremy and their growing friendship, of Western Cypress, of Gustav’s death and funeral, of Kevin, of Meg and Raoul… of Erik. Remembering his touches and caresses as they would snuggle and cuddle together, the way he held her, the way he kissed her, the way he sang to her, the way he brought music back to her life. The recital, the warmth of the stage lights, the sounds of Erik’s symphony, his voice saying “I love you.” The slamming of the stairwell door and thunderous steps, growls and curses rupturing from Kevin’s chest. “God, will this every STOP,” she huffed out annoyed to herself. It was close to two in the morning, according to the nightstand clock that refused to sleep just like Christine.

Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, Christine walked out to the back deck and sat down in one of the adirondack chairs and listened to the rustling leaves. She glanced up at the night sky. Even the moon and the stars reminded her of Erik. She could never escape the thoughts of him. Oh how she missed him. Footsteps startled her as she looked up to see Jeremy walking towards her. “This seat taken?” Christine motioned to Jeremy to sit. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

“I usually don’t. Haven’t slept restful the past two months,” she confessed. She offered Jeremy her cup to take a drink. “So… are you here to offer typical platitudes and Bible verses from Romans and Philippians to help me get over this?”

“No.”

“‘Just pray and read your Bible and have faith’,” Christine mocked advice.

“No.”

“Then why are you here? What do you want to say?”

“I’m not here to say anything, Christine. I’m here to be still and to listen.”

The minutes ticked by in silence before Christine heaved a sigh and looked at Jeremy. “Alright…”

# # #

“You can’t keep running away,” Jeremy said after a long moment of silence. Christine hadn’t been able to shed one tear since that night. Tonight, the dam threatened to break.

“But I’ve gotten so good at it,” she whispered, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I think if you actually sat down and thought about it, anger hasn’t been your constant companion. It’s your grief. And grief, Christine, makes an absolutely terrible companion. It’s going to destroy you and everyone you love. It almost destroyed Erik until…” Jeremy stopped suddenly.

“What did you say? You said his name… how do you know?”

“I met him, Christine, just yesterday. He told me and Nadir everything. And,” this was going to hurt but she needed to know, “he loves you more than you can possibly know. He wanted me to give you this.” Jeremy reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out the letter in a sealed envelope Erik had written the night before. With shaking hands, she held it with reverence. “He’s a good man, Christine.”   
  


“I know.” Another heavy silence. “Where is he? Is he ok?” 

“Granting forgiveness, seeking redemption, and finding grace,” Jeremy replied, “Just like you need to. Don’t forget whose child you are. Remember, Christine, Jesus knows your grief, He knows your pain, He wept. Turn to Him.” He got up and held her hand. “Good night, Christine.”

# # #

The morning song of birds woke Christine as the blue and purple hazy colors of dawn birthed a new day. The sliding of paper rustled beside her. There laying next to her in the bed was the unopened envelope with Erik’s handwriting. Without much sound, Christine dressed in a pair of leggings, a tank top and her favorite oversized sweatshirt that belonged to Gustav. She shoved the envelope into the sweatshirt’s front pocket and headed into the kitchen. Jeremy and Nadir were still asleep. Scratching a note and laying it on the counter, Christine walked outside to the backyard, entered the shed, and wheeled out her bike.

Early morning fog blanketed the fields and woods along the long, winding road. She pedaled harder as the bike began climbing up the steep hill, her lungs burning as she sped along. Finally she reached the crest of the hill and stopped at the end of the road. There sitting before her on top of another hill surrounded by rolling fields of corn sat the church. She sighed heavily and began her trek.

Upon reaching the church, Christine dismounted her bike and wheeled it through the paved walkways that wound around the cemetery behind the church. It was perched atop the hill which overlooked miles and miles of lush green woods, the church’s softball field and the outdoor grove and pavilion. The ancient tombs of fallen Revolutionary and Civil Wars soldiers lay below, a testament to the holy patriotism of her small town’s war heroes. Finally she reached the spot in the far corner of the cemetery: two small headstones, side by side, shielded from the rising summer sun by the shadows of the towering cornstalks.  _ Gustave Daae, 1948-2003, devoted husband, loving father, Vietnam Veteran, US Navy _ .  _ Marie Clare Daae, 1950-1984, devoted wife, loving mother _ . “Hi Mom, hi Dad,” Christine whispered as she sat upon the dewed grass. “It’s been a long time,” plucking up a few overgrown weeds around the headstones. The sealed envelope crinkled in her pocket as she pulled it out. “I don’t know if I can read this but,” she sighed, “I think he wrote this for all three of us.” She thumbed the sealed flap and pulled out the letter, and she began to read it aloud.

# # #

_ And so, Christine, this I share with you in hopes that you will understand that I know what it’s like to WANT to take the life of someone who has done unspeakable damage. Nadir holds the belief that I did not kill this man when I was still living with Mother. And I’ve never told a soul about that night except for Raoul, who was sworn to secrecy all these years. But I tell you this in hopes that you will forgive me for not telling you the full truth. Christine, my beloved, please forgive me. _

He had bared his life and his soul to her completely, and she had just shared this with her parents. She wept uncontrollably, her tears dropping onto the paper and smudging Erik’s written words.

_ I have loved you since the moment I heard you sing. I have loved you every day since. And I will continue to love you for the rest of my days on this Earth. Whatever you decide, I will always be here for you and with you, no matter what. My hope for you, Christine, is that you are able to find grace and peace. All my love for you, always and forever, Erik. _

The sounds of footsteps behind Christine had her glancing over her shoulder. Without a sound, Nadir and Jeremy came to sit beside her, their arms coming around to hold her tightly. “Oh God,” she huffed out through her choking sobs, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. Oh Nadir, I’m so sorry…”

After all this time, somehow he still remembered how to navigate the ridiculously complex dirt roads through the trailer park. Some things had changed, minor improvements, but everything else remained untouched, unimproved, dismantled, torn apart, run down. He felt sick as he pulled up to his childhood abode, the knot in his throat and stomach threatening to spill whatever contents of his stomach out onto the loose gravel. He swallowed hard as he brought a hand up and knocked on the lightweight door.

A hacking cough sounded from behind the thin trailer door as the locks disengaged. “Yes?” said a raspy voice as a shriveled woman opened the door. “My God…” her mouth fell open.

“Hello, Mother,” Erik replied stoically.

# # #

She sat in silence on the sunken, worn out couch as Erik evenly spoke to her in limited detail where his life had taken him. “Well I hope she’s a nice girl,” she responded with not much feeling.

“She is, Madeleine. And I will be asking for her hand in marriage.”

“Don’t suppose you need anything from me?” Madeleine grunted out a sad scoff.

“No, Madeleine. I neither need or want anything from you or of you,” Erik said evenly. “And I came here for nothing except to tell you that I forgive you. I forgive you for the hell you brought upon me which tainted my childhood. I have a family now which I know I deserve; people who love me unconditionally. I forgive you, Mother.” And with that, Erik got up, walked out to his car, backed out of the carport, and pulled away, not once glancing back.

For the duration of the three hour drive back to Western Cypress, Erik drove in complete silence. It was over. He confronted his mother and granted forgiveness. He found redemption and forgiveness of his own. As he prayed, he felt lighter, the burdens of his past and on his heart and soul lifted, the load he carried no longer heavy. It was indeed the start of a new beginning. And he knew exactly what he wanted. It would certainly take some planning, but with help from Meg and Raoul, it could be done perfectly. And for what seemed like the first time in months, Erik smiled.

* * *

**_August 2006, Sea Isle City, NJ_ **

“Hello, Mr. Destler! I trust everything is fine with your room?” the receptionist asked as Erik approached the concierge.

“Yes, it’s perfect, thank you. I was hoping the hotel could assist me with something. Has Christine Daae checked in yet?”

“Of course, let’s take a look.” A few taps of the keyboard. “Not yet, sir, but her reservation is confirmed. What can we help you with?”

Erik smiled shyly.  _ This has to work _ .

# # #

“Good afternoon! Welcome to The Reeds at Shelter Haven! Can I help you?” the tanned blonde behind the concierge counter greeted Christine.

“Yes, hi, Christine Daae checking in. I’m a guest for the Giry/de Chagny wedding.”

“Ah, yes perfect,” she responded. The keyboard clicked and clacked, two plastic room keys were scanned. “Here we go, room 506. Elevators are behind you on the left. Enjoy your stay with us!”

“Thank you,” Christine smiled and wheeled her suitcase behind to the elevators. The elevator doors dinged open. Once to the fifth floor, the elevator dinged open once again and Christine made her way down the hallway to her room. She swiped her room key to release the lock. Pushing the door open, a sweet fragrance filled her senses. Her breath drew back as she walked in to find her room filled with at least three dozen long-stemmed red roses in crystal vases. She held her breath as she looked at the familiar handwriting on the card in one of the vases. She removed the card and proceeded to open the sliding door to the balcony. Her room overlooked the white sandy beach below. The waves crashed lightly as the beautiful pastel hues from the sunset began to paint the sky. She read:

_ Dear Christine, _

_ I trust you arrived safely. I made reservations at Madigan’s for 8:00PM in hopes that you would join me for dinner. A driver will come to pick you up at 7:30PM from the hotel. I took the liberty of having something special delivered to your room, which you will find in the closet. _

_ I hope to see you this evening. _

_ Yours always,  
_ _ Erik _

# # #

Erik sat nervously at the table in the corner, tapping his shaking fingers upon the crisp, white linen tablecloth. He glanced at his watch: 7:45. His phone vibrated from an incoming text from Raoul.  _ Anything yet?? _

_ No. Still not here. _

_ She’ll be there. _

He fidgeted with the silverware and napkins. He stared at the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The small jazz trio on the stage was quietly playing some tune he couldn’t quite pay attention to. He glanced at his watch again: 8:03.  _ She’s not coming _ , he thought to himself.

“Right this way, miss,” the waiter said. A few more steps,  _ don’t fall, Chris _ she muttered to herself. “Pardon me, Mr. Destler, your other party has arrived. Please have a seat ma’am. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Erik stood slowly, his impeccably tailored suit cut him a dashing figure. He looked pristine, professional, and… charming, handsome… and, Christine had to swallow hard, God he looked sexy. Oh and his smile, his ever-so-perfect smile with a hint of sarcastic smugness she had loved. “Christine,” he reverently whispered her name as he placed a small kiss upon her cheek, “I’m so glad you’ve come.”

He pulled out her chair and she sat. Her perfume infiltrated his senses, her bare shoulders sunkissed with color from the summer sun, and her hair… “Oh my goodness, you’ve cut your hair,” Erik said surprised. 

Christine chuckled nervously. “Yes, I did.” An awkward silence as Erik sat down across from here.

“Ma’am, can I start you off with a drink?” the waiter asked rather annoyedly.

“Yes, sorry, um, lemon water, please. Thank you,” Christine quickly replied, offering a small smile.

Christine glanced at Erik’s face, feeling suddenly nervous and her mouth dry. The awkward silence mounted.

_ The very thought of you  
_ __ I forget to do  
_ Those little ordinary things  
_ __ That everyone ought to do

The pianist began to sing the opening stanzas. “Christine?” Erik swallowed hard.

“Yes?”

“You’re more beautifully stunning than ever before.” His hand fidgeted nervously in his jacket pocket, holding tightly to the familiar small, square box that had come into his ownership just a few weeks ago, bestowed and gifted to him by the man who had called him son. “Dance with me…”


	25. To Have And To Hold

**A/N: _And here we are... this is the LAST CHAPTER. This journey start in July 2019 and has been a fantastically frustrating yet rewarding experience. A short epilogue will arrive soon and officially close out Once Upon Another Time. Thank you to my readers and followers for reading and commenting. It's been really fun. Love to all!_**

**Chapter 25: To Have And To Hold**

It was like a glimpse of heaven to hold her in his arms again. His long fingers deftly skirted around her waist and pulled her gently to him. Both grinned nervously as their eyes met, chuckling softly at their significant height difference. But still, Christine’s arm successfully roamed upwards to Erik’s broad shoulders, their free hands entwining together and they slowly danced upon the floor, navigating both their soft touches and the gentle rhythm of the music. Christine leaned against him and breathed in the ever familiar and comforting scent of ivory soap and tinges of earl grey tea. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered to herself and gasped slightly as Erik’s hands gently tightened around her waist and his head rested lightly upon hers. They were swept in the seductive, sultry voice of the alto singer on the stage, crooning with the tender sax and double bass in sweeping time of the drum brush. Erik was lost in the feeling of Christine in his arms again after so long.

_ And it’s just the thought of you  
_ _ The very thought of you  
_ _ My love _

Too soon the song ended, light applause filled the intimate dining room. Erik and Christine hesitantly released each other from their embrace. “Thank you,” Erik said and kissed her hand. She smiled and his heart melted. As soon as they sat down at their table the waiter arrived to take their orders. “What can I get for you folks this evening?”

“Grilled salmon salad, please,” Christine said.

“Same for me, thank you,” Erik nodded to the waiter. 

“I figured we’ll be eating half our weight in food this weekend for the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception,” Christine chuckled.

They fell into silence as the jazz trio began another song.

“Er-...”

“Chris-...” They chimed in at the same time causing both to smile shyly and laugh. “You first, Christine.”

Christine felt her face flush bright red and her stomach drop. She practiced her monologue over and over again as she got ready back at the hotel and in the cab to the restaurant. How many ways could she say “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for breaking your heart and disappearing. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused”? She took an unsteady breath and forced herself to make eye contact with Erik. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, the waiter interrupted with their dinner. “Enjoy your meal folks. Can I get you any drink refills?” 

“Um, no thank you,” Christine chirped nervously. She couldn’t move, she froze, sitting there staring at her plate, a knot clogging her throat. The urge to end the night and flee was intense.  _ No, no more running. Enough. _ Erik watched her, knowing she was fighting deep within herself. He waited patiently, not daring to breathe. Christine huffed out a sigh, her words failing, her practiced speech completely soaked up and cast aside by her frustrations. She watched cautiously as Erik’s hand glided across the table, offering palm up to hold her.

“It’s ok, Christine,” he offered quietly.

“No, Erik, it’s not ok!” she choked out a sob. “It’s not ok, Erik. I am so incredibly sorry. The amount of times I need to apologize will never be enough. I’m sorry for everything: all the pain I brought into your life, for breaking your heart, for deserting you when I should’ve been there, for running away from you and my grief and my problems. How do any of my faults and mistakes make me any different from Kevin; how could I possibly be just as selfish, even more selfish, than he was?” She couldn’t hold back her regretting sorrow. Her tears fell steadily.

Erik immediately was at her side, his arms wrapping around her in a cocoon of warmth, comfort, and understanding. “You’re nothing like him, Christine. We have both paid dearly for our grief and regrets. No more, Christine, no more loathing, no more beating ourselves up for our pasts. No more, Christine, no more. All is forgiven; forgive yourself so we can just move forward from this.” He was crying into her shoulder, their faces wet with tears.

“Can you forgive me, Erik? I cannot bear to have you hate me.”

“Hate you? Oh Christine, I could never, ever hate you. If anything, I could only love you more than ever before. My God how I’ve missed you,” he said, pulling away from her embrace, gently cupping her face in his hands.

“You still love me?” 

“I never stopped,” Erik replied as he touched his forehead to Christine’s. She brushed her thumb over Erik’s tears to wipe them gently away. He returned her gesture.

“Erik,” his name was a plea upon her lips, “Erik, I don’t deserve you.”  _ Why is it so hard to say I love you?! _

“None of that, I don’t want to hear anymore self-deprecating comments. Tonight, Christine, we start anew. Come on, let’s eat. And the night is not yet over.”

While they ate, they exchanged their own redemptive stories. Christine listened intently as Erik spoke of his mother, how he sought her out in order to forgive, what it was like the first time he saw Nadir after so long, and finally, what it was like to meet Jeremy. Christine smiled at his name. “He’s very special to me, Erik. It still astounds me how Jeremy has become so integral to bringing us back together,” Christine mused.

“Not just him, Christine, but through God Himself. A divine plan.”

Another silence fell between them as they glanced over the dessert menu, this time, though, the silence wasn’t awkward. It felt like old times again. As they waited for their shared banana creme brulee to be brought to the table, the jazz trio began the opening stances of “Embraceable You.” This time, Christine stood and held out her hand to Erik. “Dance with me, Erik.” When they stepped onto the dancefloor, the world completely melted away as they fell into each other’s embrace.

After dessert, Erik paid the bill and the couple decided to take a walk on the beach. It was a beautiful, warm evening with a full moon glistening on the rolling ocean waves. With their bare feet digging into the cool sand, they walked slowly along, hand in hand, utterly not a word and feeling absolutely content. With a rather cool gust of wind, Erik draped his suit jacket over Christine’s shoulders, his fingers brushed gently over the nape of her neck. Marie Daae’s ring practically burned a hole through the jacket pocket, begging for a permanent home upon Christine’s finger. They continued walking a little further until their toes ached from digging into the sand, so they hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel.

Upon entering the lobby, the receptionist greeted the pair and motioned for Erik that he had a message waiting for him at the front desk.  _ When you two lovebirds come back, join us on the hotel terrace - we’re all chilling by the fire pits. XOXO, Megsaroni and Raoulinsky _ . Erik rolled his eyes and chuckled and handed Christine the note. She laughed, “She is so very extra special.” They walked past the dining hall and indoor pools and finally reached the outdoor terrace. They were greeted with smiles and hugs and excitement for tomorrow’s rehearsal and finally the wedding on Sunday evening. As the hour grew later, family members and friends gradually retreated to their hotel rooms for the night. Finally it was just the four of them, seemingly nostalgic from their times of being together and enjoying life before events unfolded and threatened to rip them apart. Their conversation was light until Raoul regarded an important topic Erik had not mentioned to Christine at dinner.

“So Erik, has Maestro Yanich and the orchestra finalized the itinerary for the holiday touring circuit? How are the preparations coming for the new piece?”

“Touring? A new piece?” Christine asked as she watched Erik scrunch his face in regret.

“Christine, I beg for your forgiveness. I honestly forgot to speak to you about this at dinner. I guess I was too relieved and elated to see you again…”

“No, no it’s ok, honest. Sounds like a lot has happened this summer. What’s the good news?”

Unknown to Erik, his doctoral performance was recorded. And over the summer, the recording found its way to Maestro Yanich and New York City Chamber Orchestra. That’s when the invitation was extended to Erik: tour with the orchestra for another European excursion and premiere his symphony to the masses. He was also charged to compose another neo-classical piece to debut as well. Although Erik felt guilty in forgetting, Christine sat elated at this incredible opportunity. “Erik,” she was so happy she could cry, “What an amazing opportunity for you. I’m so unbelievably proud of you!”

“You’re not upset with me?” Erik asked.

Christine took his hands into hers, “Never…”

“So when do you officially leave?” Meg asked.

“Two weeks after Thanksgiving. First is London, then Belfast and Barcelona. Christmas in Stockholm, then on to Berlin, Brussels, and finally New Year’s Eve finale in Paris.”

“That’s a long time to be away,” Christine said to herself but Erik heard.  _ Just when things were looking up, he’s leaving _ . “And then what happens after that?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?

Conversation started to die down as the late night hours ticked by when Meg and Raoul bid their good nights, leaving Erik and Christine alone. They sat for a while in silence, Christine feeling her heart growing heavy at the thought of Erik being gone. After everything they had been through, why did he have to leave? Why did she let her grief interfere with mending her relationship with Erik? Why did life have to butt in again and stifle their happiness?

“I have a favor to ask, Christine: did you bring your guitar with you?” Erik asked suddenly, breaking Christine from her warring thoughts. She nodded yes. “Would you be willing to get it?”

“Of course, it’s in my room. Let me grab it.”

Within a few minutes she walked off the elevator and found Erik at the piano in the lounge area off from the main lobby. He was tinkering away at some melody written upon a few sheets of paper. “What are you playing?” she asked quietly. A few hotel guests had been nursing glasses of wine in the lounge, chatting softly in the late evening. There was a certain ambience about the room, and it was soon to be filled with music.

“Something I wrote for the wedding. Meg and Raoul had asked me ages ago to write something for their special day and this is it,” he responded, moving off to the side of the piano bench to let Christine take a closer look. “I’ve been working on this and realized it was missing something.”

“It sounds wonderful, Erik, so what could possibly be missing from this?”

“Your voice,” he said as he motioned towards Christine’s guitar. “It’s incomplete without you and your music. Play this with me…” The opening chords of the song warmly strummed on the guitar, the marrying of melody and harmony filling the intimate setting as their voices joined so very subtly and gently. An intangible feeling of warmth and love filled the room and infiltrated the guests who had remained in the lounge. As the song came to a close, a gentle applause rang through the room as Christine smiled ever so gently at Erik, their eyes holding each other captive.  _ Tell him you love him, Christine - say the words _ . “Would you be willing to play this at the wedding, Christine?” She could only nod a yes, as the words she wanted and craved and needed to say still would not come. “Well I guess we should turn in; it’s pretty late,” Erik finally said. They walked together to the elevator and entered. “What floor?” he asked.

“Five.”

“Same as me,” Erik said quietly as he pushed the button. He swallowed hard, “what room are you in?”

“In 506.”

Erik huffed out a stifled chuckle, “I’m in 508.”

The elevator doors dinged open and they both exitted, walking quietly down the long hallway and finally stopping at Christine’s room. “Good night, neighbor,” she said, reaching out to take Erik’s hands in hers.

“Sweet dreams, Christine; sleep well,” he said as he placed a reverent kiss upon her hands.

Another restless night preoccupied Christine’s thoughts, her mind going over and over the details of the evening. How perfect it was to see Erik, to hold him, to even talk to him again. She smiled to herself wistfully as she could still feel Erik in her arms. She rolled over and picked up her phone.  _ Should I text him? _ Instead, she got up and walked out onto the balcony and sat down.  _ Are you awake? _

_ Yeah kid, just having some tea before heading to bed. You ok? _ Christine quickly clicked to call.

“Wow, what a great opportunity for him, Christine. How are you taking the news?”

“I mean, I am so incredibly proud of him, he’s so gifted. I know how I feel but why can’t I just tell him?”

“I dunno sweetie, and that’s something only you can answer. Do you love him?”

“More than ever.”

* * *

The next day was full of commitments between setting up the venue and rehearsal obligations, Christine and Erik weren’t able to spend much time together. So when Nadir arrived later that morning, Christine was happy to welcome some company.

“You’ve been working a lot lately,” Christine mentioned as her and Nadir sat under their beach umbrella, soaking up the late August sun. It was a beautiful day.

“Can’t tell you much yet, but me, Darius, and Scott have been working on a pretty big claim case for a few Vietnam vets. I’ll know more tonight, I think. Mr. de Chagny has been making some phone calls as well to some contacts in DC, so we’ll see what comes of it.”

“So… you can’t say what the claim is about or anything?”

“Not yet; at least not until I hear something more.”

“Well whatever it is, I hope it works out,” Christine said as she gazed out towards the ocean and gasped aloud as a pod of porpoise fins breached the surface of the waves. For the first time in a while, she felt joy. Not happiness, but actual  _ joy _ . And she smiled as she dragged an unwilling Nadir to the water for a swim. “Race ya, old man, let’s go!”

As Erik and Raoul and venue staff worked on setting up Erik’s equipment, Erik gazed out onto the beach and immediately found Christine and Nadir. Mechanically unwrapping amplifier cords, a smile graced his face as he watched the two dive under the crashing waves. He found himself chuckling as he watched Nadir pick up Christine and throw her into a massive wave before it took him out with a loud crash of water. Reaching into his pants pocket, Erik’s fingers nervously wrapped around the sacred little box, wondering if the right moment would ever arrive.

After a long afternoon of making preparations and setting up the venue, the rehearsal was finally underway. As the wedding coordinator attempted to herd the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Christine sat off to the side observing the organized chaos. She had a camera with her to capture the candid moments. “Ok, it seems like I’m losing everyone’s attention. Parents and grandparents, please step forward so we can discuss escorting and seating,” announced the wedding coordinator rather annoyed. Christine watched curiously as a tall, blonde-haired man sat in a chair in front of her.

“It’s like herding cats,” the young man laughed. “I’m Phillipe, by the way, Raoul’s brother.” 

“Oh yes, hello, I’m Christine, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Raoul,” Christine responded.

“Hopefully he mentioned all my good qualities,” he said, an ode of creepiness dripping from his voice. Christine chuckled nervously. 

Erik watched and immediately beelined it for Christine. “Oh Christine, there’s something I need your help with for a minute,” Erik said as he reached for Christine’s hand. As they walked away, he spoke rather hushed, “You might want to keep your distance. He is nothing like Raoul… he’s kind of a creep.”

Christine’s face wrinkled, “Yeah, I got that impression pretty quick. Thanks for pulling me away.”

A short time later, everyone was seated for the rehearsal dinner. Halfway through dinner, Nadir’s phone rang and excused himself. Christine watched curiously as he motioned for Raoul’s father to join him in another room. “What’s that all about?” Erik inquired.

“I’m not quite sure. Nadir said he’s been working on a pretty significant claims case and apparently Raoul’s dad has been making some phone calls to his network in DC. That’s all I know,” she replied as they watched Nadir and Raoul Sr. shake hands and smile. “Good news, I take it?”

“I have to leave after the wedding tomorrow for DC,” Nadir said. “We’re advocating on claims for Vietnam vets on Agent Orange exposure. Raoul Sr. made a few calls and we have some important meetings scheduled on Capitol Hill on Monday.”

“What are the chances something happens?” Erik inquired.

“Slim to none, but I have to try,” Nadir said.

* * *

Finally the big day arrived for Meg and Raoul. The air about the hotel and the outside venue was buzzing with excitement and stress. It was an evening wedding and reception, so the daylight was absorbed with hair and make-up appointments. Christine and Nadir found themselves occupied with sitting on the beach for most of the day while the activity flurried around them. By late afternoon it was time to clean up and get ready. 

Christine wore a seafoam green chiffon, knee-length sleeveless dress with her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Erik was dashing as always in his well-tailored slate-blue suit with a muted gold tie, matching the other groomsmen. Christine and Erik took their places at the front, their guitars nestled into their arms. They began to sing their duet as Meg was walked down the aisle by her dad. Raoul’s face was completely alit in awe of his beautiful bride, tears welled in his eyes. 

_ Dear true love  
_ _ I'm a writer without any words  
_ _ I'm a story that nobody heard  
_ _ When I'm without you _

_ I am a voice  
_ _ I am a voice without any sound  
_ _ I'm a treasure map that nobody found  
_ _ When I'm without you _

_ Dear true love  
_ _ I'm a lantern without any light  
_ _ I'm a boxer much too afraid to fight  
_ _ When I'm without you _

_ So with this ring  
_ _ May you always know one thing:  
_ _ What little that I have to give  
_ _ I will give it all to you  
_ _ You're my one true love _

Nadir listened to their voices thoughtfully. There was something electric when they sang together “you’re my one true love.” He watched as Erik and Christine gazed into each other’s eyes, as if singing about their love for each other. This didn’t go unnoticed by Meg and Raoul as Meg winked at her new husband.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Raoul, kiss that lovely bride,” the pastor declared. Family and friends laughed as Meg grabbed Raoul into her arms and dipped him backwards to kiss him. In response, Raoul threw up a fist in victory, causing everyone to erupt louder in applause and laughter. 

The reception itself was absolutely breathtaking as the sun began to set, painting the sky above the calm ocean waves perfect hues of purple and orange. The decor of the venue was whimsical and enchanting. White twinkle lights hung entwined with white chiffon drapes around the gazebo. Green fan palms adorned the trellises and cabanas housing the guest tables, which surrounded a large dance floor. 

Finally after dinner, the party really started. Obnoxious yet fun dance music blared through the dark sky, but as the night wore on and moods began to mellow with the wines and alcohols of the evening. “One dance with this old man before I head out tonight?” Nadir asked as he pulled Christine away from the conversation at the table. “You and Erik sounded great together,” he said as they danced to an old Frank Sinatra song. 

“Yeah we did,” Christine smiled back. She glanced over Nadir’s shoulder as the sound of Erik’s laughter cut through the still night air. Nadir heard her sigh.

“Did you tell him yet?”

“Hmm, what? Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Clearly,” he chuckled. “Erik… did you tell him?”

“If the time is right.”

After the music came to an end, Nadir bid his farewells and well wishes to the new de Chagny couple and to their families. Finally he came to Christine and Erik, “Well this is it. Wish me luck.”

Throwing her arms around Nadir into a tight hug she said, “You won’t need it. You’re gonna be great. I’m proud of you for taking this one. No matter the outcome, you’re a good man, Uncle Nadir.”

Nadir smiled, “Thanks kid. Alright, this old man is off, call you in a few days. Love you kids.”

“We love you too,” Erik replied quietly and shook Nadir’s hand.

A short time later, the lively sounds of brass belted out through the speakers of Frank Sinatra’s version of “That Old Black Magic” and from behind, Christine and Erik heard Megs bubbly giggles come from behind. “Come on, E, let’s go!” Meg grabbed Erik’s hand and yanked him onto the dancefloor. Christine laughed as she watched a rather clumsy Erik stumble over the beat, constantly having Meg catch him.

“Can I have this dance, Miss Christine?” Phillip asked rather drunkenly and pulled Christine to the dance floor. Chuckling apprehensively, Christine’s face held an awkward smirk of “someone get me outta here” which caused Meg to laugh even more. Finally halfway through the song, Erik looked at Meg with a “let me go rescue her” and handed Meg off to Raoul’s welcoming arms.

“May I cut in?” Erik tapped Phillip’s shoulder.

“Fine, but I get the next slow dance,” Phillip scoffed and ended up beelining it for the bar instead.

With a sigh of relief and a grateful smile, Christine slid into Erik’s arms. “Oh my God, thank you.”

Just as they were just starting to get into an awkward but stable dance, the song changed. The warm, comforting chords of the next song lulled them into a slow sway. Erik felt Christine’s arms snake around his shoulders. He couldn’t resist touching her as his fingers brushed lightly down her bare arm and settled around her waist. Heat rushed to Christine’s face as goose pimples trailed underneath Erik’s fingers. He pulled her close and rested his face gently upon her head. It was a taste of heaven again to hold him in her arms, and Christine sighed with complete contentment.

_ Come away with me in the night  
_ _ Come away with me  
_ _ And I will write you a song _

_ Come away with me on a bus  
_ _ Come away where they can't tempt us  
_ _ With their lies _

_ I want to walk with you  
_ _ On a cloudy day  
_ _ In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
_ _ So won't you try to come _

Christine smiled as she heard and felt the vibrations of Erik’s quiet singing above her. He was quietly singing along to the lyrics. It didn’t go unnoticed when his voice hitched with the next stanza:

_ Come away with me and we'll kiss  
_ _ On a mountaintop _

“Come take a walk with me?” Erik asked suddenly, guiding Christine by the hand towards the cool sand of the beach, away from the buzz of the wedding reception.

_ Come away with me  
_ _ And I'll never stop loving you _

They walked hand in hand a little further down on the promenade, feeling the cool ocean breeze on their faces. The ocean was much calmer, the tide receding out into the night. The moon shined big and bright above them. And once again, the treasured ring box was practically burning a hole through Erik’s jacket pocket. He fidgeted nervously. “It was a good day today,” Christine said contemplatively. The music from the reception blared an obnoxious dance mix, distracting Erik from the small object he squeezed in his hand.

“Yes, yes it was. I’m really happy for Meg and Raoul.”  _ Damn you’re a fool; just ask her! _ “Christine, I, um,” his throat suddenly became too dry for comfort. He took her hand in his. “It’s been…”

“Yes, Erik?” She knew; she had to know what he was going to say.

“It’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?” Not what he wanted to say.

The too familiar distant look clouded Christine’s eyes, and Erik watched as she fought her way back. It really had been such an insane few months. They had been through so much. “Yeah, yeah it has,” she sighed out, placing her hand gently upon Erik’s face. “I must say, Erik…”  _ Say it, Christine, say you love him. Tell him now. Ask him to spend the rest of his life with you. Say it! _

“Yes?” He kissed her hand and brushed a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Erik, I…” 

“Erik! Christine!” Mrs. Giry’s voice greeted them with a shout from behind. “Meg and Raoul want one last photo with the group before the photographer packs away his equipment. Come on back, kids.”

Christine bit her tongue in frustration.  _ Why is this so damn hard? _

It was close to two in the morning by the time the reception ended and everyone slithered their way back to their rooms to sleep off the alcohol and celebrations. Erik walked Christine back to her hotel room, both too exhausted to give anything much thought except sleep. “Good night then, Christine,” Erik said droopily and kissed her cheek.

The next morning greeted the sandy shores with heavy fog and clouds. Rain threatened to wash away the evidence of the wedding and the air held a wet chill. So much so that when Christine went to sit on her room’s balcony to enjoy her coffee, she immediately grabbed the throw blanket off the hotel bed to wrap around her. Sleep evaded her all night as she replayed the wedding reception over and over again in her head, and she silently cursed herself for still not being able to tell Erik she loved him.

By ten o’clock, it was time to start checking out and make the two hour drive back to the house in the woods. “Excuse me, can you tell me if Erik Destler has checked out yet?” Christine inquired of the receptionist.

“No, not yet, ma’am. I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Would you like me to ring his room?”

“Oh, uh, no no, it’s ok. I don’t want to disturb him if he’s still sleeping.”

“Well that’s everything, I hope you enjoyed your stay with us.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

Christine walked across the street to the overflow private parking lot of the hotel, suitcase rolling behind her clumsily. Frankenbeast lay in rusted-wait to be brought to life but as Christine turned the key in the ignition, the engine choked and sputtered. She tried again and listened to the excruciating grinding of the engine trying to come to life. Finally it grinded into gear. Christine pushed on the gas and pulled out from the parking spot and a loud  _ POP BOOM _ slammed the truck to a smoky halt, causing nearby cars to wail and beep in alarm. “Shit…” she mumbled to herself. She got out to the truck’s engine smelling of burnt rubber and steam exhaling from under the hood. “This can’t be good,” she said after staring at the engine. She turned to make her way back to the hotel to call for a tow truck.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Destler. I hope you enjoyed your stay. Safe travels.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said quietly as he heard the sliding doors of the main entrance slide open. He looked up to see a rather tired and defeated Christine walking towards the front desk. “Hey, good morning. You headed home too?”

“Morning… and I was, but um, the truck just died. Can’t get the stupid thing started. I need a tow truck.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Can I stay with you until the truck comes?”

“No, you really don’t have to,” Christine responded as the receptionist began calling a tow service.

“I know I don’t have to but I want to.”

* * *

“Well Ms. Daae,” the mechanic came to the waiting area, wiping the dark grease stains off his hands, “your truck is done. I can replace the timing belt that might buy you only about 50 more miles on the truck.”

Christine’s shoulders slumped down. “You mean, that’s it? There’s absolutely nothing you can do to get it up and running again?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, no. I mean, it’s a 1996 Ford; you’ve taken good care of it but it’s got 120,000 miles on it and it’s 20 years old. What I can do is offer you $200 in cash cuz there are some things I can scrap and use if you’re willing to part with the truck today.”

Christine swallowed the knot in her throat and finally responded, “Ok. Can I clean out the truck quick?”

Erik waited and watched quietly as Christine cleaned out the glove box. She grabbed the garage door opener off the visor and stuffed it into her purse. Erik walked to the bed of the truck and pulled out Christine’s suitcase and guitar. Running her hands along the rusted red lines along the bed of the truck, she sighed. “It’s just a truck, but… it was Dad’s. This is Dad’s truck. He loved this thing. We took so many trips. Lots of memories in this thing. Sometimes I swear it still smells like him. I shouldn’t be this upset. It’s just a truck.”

Erik just stood there. What was there to say? He knew this was really hard for her, and nothing he could say would make it any easier. “I’m sorry, Christine.”

She looked up at him and stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “It’s ok,” she chuckled, “I’ll be ok.”

“Can I drive you home?” he offered hopefully.

“I can’t ask that of you. The house in the woods adds almost two hours to your trip.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered. Let me take you home.”

“OK,” she said as she closed the driver’s side door for the last time.

By the time they finally got into Erik’s car and got on the highway, it was late in the afternoon. The weather hadn’t improved since the morning. Conditions quickly deteriorated as they drove west, with skies darkening and rain steadily falling. Traffic had barely crawled around the city limits. They were still over an hour to Christine’s house when stomachs roared in protest of being neglected. The car ride from the beach had been somewhat awkward - small talk was scant but the tension was thick. They both felt it. “I’m starving, let’s just get off at this exit and see if there’s a diner or something,” Christine said as the sea of red brake lights glared through the rain-dotted windshield.

They drove a few miles down the road off the exit before coming to a Denny’s. “I could kill some pancakes right now,” Erik said half to himself. Chuckling from his co-pilot pulled his glance sideways. “What’s so funny?”

“You sounded like my dad just then. Anytime we got sidetracked and forgot to eat, he always defaulted to pancakes and bacon. Brenner, he called it.”

“Brenner?” Erik questioned, confused.

“Breakfast for dinner. Brenner,” she laughed.

“I like the way your dad thinks. What a great idea. Brenner.”

They stuffed themselves soon after receiving their orders. The buttermilk pancakes and greasy bacon appeased both their now full stomachs. “Brenner is great, but I think I forgot to mention that pancake comas follow almost immediately,” Christine sighed and stretched before falling into the high-backed pleather booth seat.

Erik huffed out a quiet burp, “You’re not kidding, but so incredibly worth it.”

They paid for their bill and made for the exit when a loud crack of thunder shook the doors. The heavens opened up like Niagra Falls. “Go figure, we eat half our weight in pancakes and now we have to run,” Erik sighed.

“Race you!”

“Wait, what?!” Before he could even comprehend he watched Christine bolt for the car in the pouring down rain. He watched as she furiously pulled at the car door. He ran for the car and said, “You can’t win if I don’t unlock the car first!”

“Oh my God you suck so bad!” she yelled over the shouting thunder and laughed. Climbing into the car and slamming the doors shut, Erik couldn’t help but glance at Christine’s legs as the soaked jersey-knit skirt she wore clung seductively around her thighs. The white mask upon his face beaded water into his lap. Christine watched as he dabbed the mask with his hand. “You know, you don’t have to wear that, Erik. Take it off and dry your face,” she offered quietly.

“You just ate. Pancakes taste better the first time.”  _ Mood killer, way to go _ . He knew why he was starting to feel on edge: he was losing his nerve to ask her to marry him because he truly wondered if she loved him. She had yet to say it to him.

Traffic had cleared up somewhat by the time they got back onto the highway. They continued most of the trip in silence until Christine asked if she could put in a CD. “Of course, what are we listening to?” Erik asked.

“Just a mix I made a few weeks ago,” Christine said as the first song started to play. Erik looked over when Christine hummed the opening chords of the piano. Goosebumps littered his skin. This song was too familiar.

“I roll the window down, and then begin to breathe in the darkest country road. And the strong scent of evergreen from the passenger seat as you are driving home,” she sang quietly to herself but stopped when she heard Erik huff out a stifled sigh. “You ok?

“That song… it’s the first time I ever heard you sing.”

“What?”

It seemed like forever ago. The first moment nearly three years earlier, the first time Erik had heard the most beautiful voice of an angel. “It was April, three years ago, you sang this same song. The first time I ever heard your voice,” he began. Christine sat completely shocked as Erik recounted the times he had both seen and heard her. “And then, well, you know the rest…”

She was speechless. “All that time, Erik?” she questioned in a whisper, completely dumbfounded. They fell into silence again until they reached their exit that would finally lead them to the house in the woods. An unexplainable presence seemed to fill the car, something heavy but in a comforting way. Christine wasn’t sure if Erik felt it too. She stared out the windshield as the rain pelted down. Something deep inside compelled her to start singing quietly again, but this time the song that started it all. Erik swallowed hard as Christine’s voice filled his ears. “Once upon another time, somebody’s hands who felt like mine, turned the key and took a drive, was free…” Glancing down she watched Erik’s hand hesitantly reach over her leg and gently placed his hand over hers. His skin was cold, clammy; she could practically feel the thrumming energy pulsing through his skin. “Just yellow lines and tire marks, sun-kissed skin and handlebars, and where I stood was where I was to be…”

The car pulled into the long drive of the house in the woods. Lightning illuminated the outlines of the towering pine trees around the property. Suddenly the outdoor motion detector lights flicked on, causing their eyes to squint from the sudden brightness. “I’ll open the garage so we don’t get soaked,” Christine said once Erik put the car in park and she pulled out the garage door opener from her purse.  _ Click, click _ . The garage door refused to open. “Oh come on,” Christine huffed out as she smacked the plastic device in her hand.  _ Click, click, click _ . “Gotta be the batteries. Alright stay here, I’ll run in and open it from inside.”

“Christine, wait…” Erik began.  _ It’s now or never _ … But Christine had already opened the passenger door and climbed out into the pouring rain. 

As she rounded the front of Erik’s car, she stopped suddenly in her tracks. Erik stood before her, his chest rising and falling harshly, the rain soaked his clothes, water dripping off the mask hiding his face. There in his trembling hand he held out the small box. Christine’s sandals sloshed through the puddles as she took a few hesitant steps forward. At first the look on her face was confusion but was quickly overtaken by the realization of what Erik held on to. “Marry me, Christine.”

The knot in her throat choked back the words she wanted to scream. She scrunched her face as tears threatening to pour out tickled her nose. Erik watched horrified as Christine began shaking her head no. He cowered away with an audible whimper of defeat and turned in retreat. “Erik! Not like this!” he heard Christine’s footsteps splashing quickly behind him. His heart rapidly beat in his chest as he felt her hands suddenly upon his shoulders and forcefully turned him around to face her. “Not like this,” she said gently and with purpose slowly slid the mask from his face. She watched as his eyes slid close, knowing the wetness cascading down his face was not from the cold rain but instead the tears he could no longer contain. She held his mask reverently in her hand, her eyes laser focused on his face. Her breathing hard and ragged. “Open your eyes and look at me,” she cried softly. Erik heard his mask drop into a puddle with a wet splash, and suddenly felt Christine’s hands upon his face. He hesitantly opened his eyes and heard her whisper, “Ask me again, my Erik, my love… ask me again.” She started sobbing, “I love you, Erik, I love you, I love you… I have always loved you, I love you, I love you…” Erik cried out as Christine pulled him harshly into her arms, her lips crashing into his with reckless abandon.

He gasped and his body stiffened as she broke the kiss and hugged him so hard it took his breath away. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” Christine continued to sob quietly. As she pulled away from the embrace, she again held Erik’s face in her hands, the soft pads of her fingertips caressing, mapping every deformity of his face. “I love you,” she mouthed and again her lips met his, but this time, so very passionately it took his breath away. He lost himself, drowned himself in the taste of her, the softness of her touch, her lips. Christine sucked in a breath as she felt Erik’s large hands landed upon her waist, his long thumbs skating seductively up her sides, ever so lightly swiping underneath the curves of her chest. Her knees began buckling under the growing arousal of his touch. Feeling Christine becoming weak in his arms, Erik dared not break their passionate embrace. Knees bent, he molded his embrace underneath her and he pulled her back to his body.

They finally parted, leaving each other breathless. “Ask me again, Erik.” Pulling the ring out of the box, Christine stared wide-eyed. “Wh-... where did you get that ring? That’s… that’s my mom’s ring?” 

“Nadir… he said… he gave this to me… he said your parents would have… Oh God, Christine, marry me…” Erik choked out in sobs.

“My darling, my love, yes…”

“Tell me again… let me hear those words,” Erik said as he placed Marie Clare’s ring upon Christine’s finger.

“I love you… I love you…”


	26. From This Day On

**Chapter 26: From This Day On**

She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her in the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was a vibrant, joyful, beautiful young woman. So much had changed in the past year. Looking around her bedroom,  _ their _ bedroom, a few unpacked boxes remained stacked in the corner. Hanging in the open closet were new clothing companions opposite of her items. Polished dress shoes lined the closet floor. On top of the small dresser tucked into the corner lay his watch, a few pairs of cufflinks, and framed photos of their Christmas spent in Stockholm and finally New Years Eve in Paris. A subtle knock on her bedroom door drew Christine from her nostalgia, “Christine? Are you ready for him to come in?”

She took a deep, steadying breath. “I am. Let him in, Meg.”

The bedroom door opened widely and Christine turned to face him. Nadir barely composed himself as he huffed out an unsteady breath, his hand settling upon his bearded chin. “Well,” he cleared his throat and tried to speak through the knot in his throat, “you’re not my little girl anymore. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Her dress was ivory white, fitted to her hips then subtly flaring out into a simple yet elegant skirt. The bodice adorned with intricate lace, slightly off the shoulder with long lace sleeves falling gently down her arms. The back of her dress held intricate buttons from the top of the lace bodice, accentuating the long lines of her back. Her hair was simply styled, her curls glowing in the sunlight. A simple yet vibrant lavender flower crown adorned her head with a shoulder-length veil clipped from behind. As Meg fluffed Christine’s gown one last time, Christine grabbed Nadir’s hand and smiled. He looked positively radiant, a proud godfather ready to walk his goddaughter down the aisle to her husband. “You are stunning, Chrissie,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “You ready?” Christine smiled, biting her lip and nodded.

* * *

They broke apart breathless, their fingers gracing their own lips lightly. It was like a shock, a spark, a flame, an electrifying pulse of infinite love and an immortal bond. By the time Erik had pulled his car into the garage it was close to midnight, and the pair were exhausted after unloading their belongings into the house. “I want you to stay,” Christine said as she placed the tea kettle onto the stove.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight, or tomorrow… or ever,” Erik said as he wrapped his arms around Christine and kissed her forehead. Water dripped from their soaked clothes.

“Go take a shower,” Christine said as she walked down the hallway to the linen closet and pulled out an extra towel and washcloth. Erik watched as she bypassed the guest bathroom and bedrooms and went into the master, her room, to place the items there. She looked at Erik and smiled. “You’re no longer a guest here, Erik… hopefully you’ll want this to be your home…  _ our _ home, together.” Erik walked towards her slowly in such a way that set her heart racing. He reached for her, his large hands caressing around her face, long thumbs traced along her jawline. He leaned down to kiss her with a devastating thoroughness that threatened to cause her knees to buckle again. 

“Home,” he sighed between kisses. “Home… home…”

* * *

He swallowed the hard knot in his throat as he adjusted the gold tie under his collar. “You ok?” Raoul chuckled as he mimicked the same tie correction. “Nervous?”

“I’d rather perform a concert in front of the Pope and all the world leaders right now,” Erik responded, looking like he was about to lose his lunch.

Raoul laughed and Erik looked defeated. “It’ll be fine, brother, don’t sweat this. You should be ecstatic that today you’re getting married!”

“Oh I am, it’s not that! It’s, um… well it’s… later,” Erik huffed out exasperated.  _ I’m getting dressed in the church for my wedding. This is NOT the place to have this conversation _ .

Raoul stopped dead and knowingly smirked. “You mean, consummating your marriage tonight?” He could barely stifle his chuckles as Erik turned pale white. “Oh Erik,” he laughed.

“It’s NOT funny!” Erik sounded so defeated as he sunk down onto a chair. “What if I’m… it’s not… she doesn’t… oh no.”

Raoul couldn’t help himself and laughed harder. “Erik,” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry to laugh, but man, you’ll know what to do.” Silence. “Your natural instincts will take over, it’ll just happen.” Still nothing. Then he finally said, “Look, think of tonight as you would when you start composing a new piece… you’re creating and bringing something to life. Why not look at tonight as composing something extravagant and blissful. You never overthink when you compose, Erik… maybe think of it that way.”

Erik looked up hopeful. Perhaps Raoul had a point. “Let the music take over…” he said to himself and Raoul patted his back. 

“Time to head to the grove, brother.”

Raoul Sr. entered the small room with a quick knock. “C’mon gents, time to get this guy married!” he said happily and shook Erik’s hand. “You look real good, son. Let’s go meet your bride.”

* * *

“Välkommen till Stockholm Arlanda flygplats!” the automated voice announced over the airport speakers. Christine and Nadir walked through the terminal and followed the signs marked  _ bagageanmälan _ (baggage claim). Nadir noticed Christine fidgeting as they walked through the busy terminal. “Nervous, kid?” he nudged her.

“No, just so ready to see him,” Christine smiled. The three-stone engagement ring caught the bright overhead lights as she jostled her passport and carry-on bag.

“Don’t worry, you will soon. Should we venture to the train into Stockholm or take a cab?”

“Erik said the cab would cost a fortune and recommended the express train to the City Center where he’ll meet up with us.”

It didn’t take long for their luggage to parade around the baggage carousel.  _ Snabbtåg till Stockholm _ with a big yellow arrow directed them to the express train area to purchase their tickets. Within a short 20 minutes, Christine and Nadir had reached the main transit up in downtown Stockholm. Christine anxiously looked around for the familiar tall figure in the crowd of hundreds. “Hey beautiful…” the dulcet voice whispered from behind. 

Christine jumped. “Oh my God, Erik!” And she jumped into his open arms. “Oh how I’ve missed you,” she whispered in his ear as she kissed his jaw, his ear, and his neck. The thrill of her hot, sweet breath on his bare skin sent his body aching for her.

“Erik, my boy, it’s so good to see you!” Nadir said as he pulled Erik into a huge bearhug. 

“My family,” Erik said pensively, “Merry Christmas. I’ve missed you both so much.”

* * *

“The big day’s here; you ready?” Jeremy asked as he greeted Erik at the altar. Dr. Marrenesco as well as other faculty members from the music department at Western Cypress were playing various interludes as Erik and Raoul settled to stand next to Jeremy. Jeremy wore his Class A uniform to serve as pastor and officiant for the wedding. Erik smiled as he heard the subtle fussy noises from Jeremy’s three month old son, who was held by Emmi.

“I couldn’t ask for a more perfect day than this,” Erik said to Jeremy. 

Jeremy smiled, “It’s always a perfect day when God’s children unite in marriage. Oh!” he quickly hushed, “Over there, Erik, I believe your bride has arrived.”

A warm, autumn breeze gently blew through the brightly colored fall leaves of the towering trees surrounding the outdoor chapel. It was a perfect October afternoon. Erik gazed out to the very small number of guests who were invited to the ceremony. They had wanted to keep the wedding small and intimate. Their theme? A sky full of stars. The benches were covered in white fabric. The large stone altar was adorned with bright Gerbera daisies and sunflowers. Large pots of rosemary and lavender lined the aisle, sending the crisp autumn air fragrant with sweet smells. Two white roses were set upon the altar, signifying the spiritual presence of Gustav and Marie Daae. 

The strumming of two acoustic guitars in harmony of the violin and cello and the simple raindrop-like plinking of the keyboard swelled in perfect time and intensity as Christine walked up the gravel, tree-lined pathway from the decorated pavilion to the outdoor chapel. Erik watched in absolute awe as his beautiful bride broke through the treeline with Nadir by her side and Meg holding the train of Christine’s dress from behind. Tears clouded his eyes as Christine glanced at him and smiled. He brought a shaking hand to the unmasked side of his face. How could it be possible to smile and cry and laugh at the same time. He felt Raoul’s hand on his shoulder, “Wow Erik,” he whispered.

“Wow,” Erik huffed out of breath, “wow…” and swallowed hard as Nadir brought Christine to him and placed their hands together.

“Who gives this woman to this man, before God and family?” Jeremy began brightly.

Nadir smiled and wiped a few tears from his face. He looked at Christine then at Erik, then turned to the guests seated before them. “I do… we all do. Today, we give Christine to Erik, and we give Erik to Christine.”

* * *

As Meg helped Christine into the car and carefully tucked her dress in, Nadir proceeded to the driver’s side and started the car. “You ok, kid?” Nadir asked as he turned to look at Christine.

She took a steadying breath and nodded, “Just wish Mom and Dad were here.”

“They are sweetie, they are.”

The brilliant fall foliage of the trees guided their short drive from the house in the woods to the grove. As they reached the top of the hill, the church stood in regalness upon rolling hills of cornfields and wild grasses. The bells tolled to four, signaling in readiness of the happiness of the hour. Nadir drove past the church, passed the cemetery, passed the church softball and finally turned into the dirt road leading up to the pavilion. The guests’ cars were parked at odd angles to fit between towering trees and random rocks and tree stumps. Everything about the pavilion was perfect. Blue and white and gold tulle graced the small structure. Fairy lights entwined with the different colors of tulle giving the place a gossamer and whimsical magic. More white twinkle lights hugged the rafters underneath the pavilion - a true sky full of stars. The long tables adorned with blue table linens, with the place settings being a smattering of constellations. Each table was a different constellation. The sounds of joyful and hopeful music pulled Christine’s attention from the pavilion to the path before her… the path and walk to her husband.

She locked her arm around Nadir as he proudly walked beside her up the path. Meg reached the wooden aisle first and proceeded down towards the altar. Again the swell of music set Christine’s soul aflame; this was Erik’s music. Part of his wedding gift to her: he composed every piece of music for their wedding, for  _ his _ bride. Tears clouded her eyes as she watched Erik lose his composure. She watched as Nadir placed her hands into Erik’s, “We all do,” she heard Nadir say.

“Friends, family, we are gathered here this afternoon in God’s magnificent and beautiful creation to bear witness to the union of Erik Christoph Destler and Christine Marie Daae,” Jeremy began. 

Christine and Erik locked eyes. “You’re beautiful,” Erik whispered.

“I love you,” she mouthed in return with a radiant smile, and watched Erik beam with joy.

* * *

“Are you sure you can’t stay to travel with us to Paris for New Year’s to finish out the concert series?” Erik asked as Nadir checked out from the hotel.

“Look you two, you’ve humored me enough to let me tag along for two weeks. Time for you to enjoy some time alone, together. Besides, I gotta get back anyway. Duty calls,” Nadir said as they all stood on the sidewalk as the cab driver closed the trunk. “This has been a fantastic trip. Erik, I am so very proud of you son, I mean that.” He pulled Erik in for a hug. “As for you, young lady,” he chided Christine and yanked her close to hug her goodbye, “I’ll pick you up from the airport when you get home.”

“I love you so much,” Christine said and kissed Nadir’s cheek. “Safe travels. Send me an email when you get home, ok?”

* * *

The concert series ended on an ecstatic high note to ring in the New Year. Paris was everything Christine had dreamt it would be, and being there with Erik only amplified the experience.

On their last night in Paris, Erik and Christine dined at  _ Le Jules Verne _ inside the Eiffel Tower. Over plates of authentic French cuisine and decadent desserts, they planned what summer would entail and planned out their wedding. Early October, late afternoon. Small and intimate. A sky full of stars.

* * *

“Before God our Father, through Jesus Christ, His Son… I am honored and blessed to announce Dr. and Mrs. Erik Destler!” Jeremy proclaimed triumphantly. “Erik, my brother, kiss that beautiful bride.”

Erik took a small step closer to Christine as he reached up to cradle her face in his hands. His soft touch sent exhilarating chills down her skin. “I love you, Christine,” he whispered quietly. And with reckless abandon kissed his bride so deeply and thoroughly she felt she would literally float off the ground. Eruptions of applause echoed through the woods.

“Finally,” Christine whispered as they pulled their lips from each other. “Finally.”

* * *

Laughter and dancing ensued at the reception. Hugs and praises of “it’s about time!” rang clear through under the cool breezes of the autumn evening. The party was quickly winding down as the sun slowly began to kiss the horizon. Christine watched curiously as Erik walked up to the front of the pavilion and clanked his glass, “Family, friends, can I have your attention please?” Voices hushed. He motioned for Christine to join him as Raoul brought a chair up next to the microphone, and Erik guided Christine to sit. “This day has been an absolute dream come true. I never thought in a million years I would be this joyous and blessed. Tonight, I wanted to give my beautiful wife something special, an ode to how happy she makes my life. Christine, my darling, I love you.” Erik signaled to his fellow musicians:

_ The summer night, the fading light  
_ _ The perfect place, the perfect time  
_ _ To take you somewhere we both want to go _

_ A starry drive in mid July  
_ _ Park the car, turn off the lights  
_ _ And venture through a field out on our own _

_ The birds they sang a melody  
_ _ My heart was keeping time and we  
_ _ Were dancing on the edge of something new  
_ _ Slow at first but still it seems  
_ _ That we'll go down in history  
_ _ As lovers from the start, just me and you _

_ I've spent a thousand nights  
_ _ Lost in your emerald eyes  
_ _ Lost in a place where I know you can see my soul  
_ _ Make me lose track of time  
_ _ You and your emerald eyes  
_ _ Finally found a place that I can call my home _

_ A subtle breeze, it's you and me  
_ _ Chest to chest, no in-between  
_ _ And every moment's better than the last _

_ Anything and everything  
_ _ That I could ever want and need  
_ _ Is standing right beside me in the grass _

_ The birds they sang a melody  
_ _ My heart was keeping time and we  
_ _ Were dancing on the edge of something new  
_ _ Slow at first but still it seems  
_ _ That we'll go down in history  
_ _ As lovers from the start, just me and you _

_ 'Cause I've spent a thousand nights  
_ _ Lost in your emerald eyes  
_ _ Lost in a place where I know you can see my soul  
_ _ Make me lose track of time  
_ _ You and your emerald eyes  
_ _ Finally found a place that I can call my home _

_ I've spent a thousand nights  
_ _ Lost in your emerald eyes  
_ _ Lost in a place where I know you can see my soul  
_ _ Make me lose track of time  
_ _ You and your emerald eyes  
_ _ Finally found place that I can call my home _

Family and friends clapped as Christine jumped into Erik’s arms. “Oh Erik, that was beautiful. Dance with me, my husband,” she said as music began to swell around them.

As the reception came to a close, Raoul, Raoul Sr, Jacques Giry, and Nadir loaded up Erik’s car with a small amount of wedding gifts. Christine and Erik bid a fond farewell to the guests as they headed out from the evening’s festivities. 

* * *

They pulled into the long driveway slowly and the outdoor motion detector lights turned on. The familiar drive reminiscent of just last summer in the pouring rain, finally two hearts confessing their undying, devoted love for one another. “I love this house, Christine,” Erik said quietly as he backed the car into the garage and turned off the engine.

“Our house,” Christine corrected.

“Our house.”

Erik walked to Christine’s side, opened her door, and assisted her out. She stumbled into his arms as the small train of her dress tangled around her ankles. The gravity of what was to come within the next few nighttime hours sent pulses racing as they chuckled nervously. As they walked up the steps from the garage to the main living area, they both gasped in surprise. The living room was adorned with a small fire crackling in the fireplace, faux candles adorned the closed lid of the baby grand piano in the living room. “Oh Meg,” Christine sighed with much appreciation.

“It’s rather romantic, is it not?” Erik observed quietly, his hot breath swirling around Christine’s ear.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Guilty as charged, my darling.”

They both clumsily collapsed onto the loveseat to take in the simplistic yet romantic sight before them. A harsh gust of wind pushed against the windows as a cold front began pushing through. Christine reached down to remove her high heels with a groan, “God it feels good to get these off my feet.”

“Allow me,” Erik said as he pulled the shoes from Christine’s feet and tossed them to the side. His long fingers began to gently massage the balls of her feet. Christine let out a relieved groan of appreciation and Erik chuckled. She felt Erik’s hands drift higher and higher, from feet to ankles, ankles to behind her calf muscles, calves to just above her knees, knees to her thighs. His fingers tracing the lacy outlines of her white thigh-high stockings. She watched his eyes grow darker and his breathing become more uneven.

“Erik,” she whispered as she pulled herself to him, her eyes locking on to his, “come with me.”

They slowly walked down the hallway to their bedroom where they found more faux candles flickering slowly. Once they reached the edge of the bed, Christine turned away from Erik. “Will you?” she motioned to the back of her dress. Erik swallowed nervously, his trembling fingers brushing her hair to the side. Painfully slow, achingly slow, one by one his fingers unbuttoned each satin-covered fastening, the lace fabric parting more and more. His fingers brushing against the bare flesh of her back sent Christine’s skin aflame, goosebumps of desire painting her ivory tones with a seductive texture. Her breathing became harsher and more unsteady as his fingers reached the zipper.

The gentle gliding sound of the bodice’s zipper thrilled Erik’s senses as the jagged trail came to an end, the lacy fabric parting like the sea to the promised land. His fingers rested hesitantly upon her shoulders. Christine felt Erik’s gentle touch as his fingertips pulled the delicate fabric from her shoulders. Slowly, deftly the dress glided down her arms as she wiggled her arms from the fabric. Christine heard Erik’s breath hitch as the rest of the wedding gown slid off her hips and pooled onto the floor around her ankles. 

He wanted to touch her but was so hesitant and unsure where to begin his exploration, to begin dotting her skin with a melody of music notes. He watched her wide-eyed as she shifted out from the confines of her undergarments and slid the stockings from her legs. Her heart pounding harshly in her chest as she turned to face Erik, completely bare. Erik closed his eyes, his nerves overtaking his desire to touch his bride. “Open your eyes, my love,” he heard Christine whisper as he felt her remove his jacket. The pressure around his neck as she loosened his bow tie and pulled his from his collar. “Erik,” she quietly spoke, “please look at me.” She watched him, his eyes finally locking onto hers and hesitantly glancing down. “It’s alright, darling,” she reassured as she brought his hands to her chest and laid them upon her bare breasts.

Erik cried out as his lips crashed onto Christine’s. His body overcame with desire to touch this beautiful blank canvas beneath his hands. They were breathless as Christine pulled apart from their kiss. “All or nothing at all,” she said as she brought her hands to Erik’s mask. Ever so gently, she removed the mask from his face, baring every deformity of his destroyed face. Erik gasped as he felt Christine’s hands reach for the belt buckle and began loosening the belt from his trousers. He closed his eyes tightly as the trousers fell to the floor at his ankles. He kissed her with a devastating thoroughness which threatened to consume them fully and end their marital bed all too quickly. Christine sat upon the edge of the bed, taking in the full view of her now bare husband. He watched as she moved her bare body up to the pillows of their bed, her body sinking and molding into the soft mattress. Erik watched wide-eyed at his beautiful bride, preparing herself for her husband.

“Touch me, Erik, trust me…” he heard Christine say. He moved onto the bed, covering her with his body. Two became one, a chorus of harmony and melody musically swirling and entwining forming the most composition of life and love and grace.

As Christine and Erik lay together, Erik sighed more than content as he watched Christine sleep. The gentle, steady rhythm of her heartbeat beckoning him to sleep.  _ Life is just beginning _ , he thought to himself,  _ and finally I am home _ .

Once upon another time, two completely separate lives were brought together through tragedy and pain. And now, joined eternally together through a shared symphony of love and music.

  
  
_The End_   
  



End file.
